


Domestic Tranquility

by ladyqueerfoot



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 51st Hunger Games, Angst, Bi-Curiosity, Daddy Issues, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is Dead, Gambling, Gay Male Character, Horror, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, I'm Going to Hell, Jealousy, Original Character(s), Plants, Pre-Hunger Games, Prequel, Reader-Interactive, Song: Dead Girl Walking, Synesthesia, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27353311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyqueerfoot/pseuds/ladyqueerfoot
Summary: "Midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost." Coriolanus Snow has reached his tipping point. After Haymitch Abernathy tampered with the forcefield, the reputation of his precious Games is in limbo. Changes need to be made and punishments need to be inflicted; The 51st Anniversary is upon our Union.
Relationships: Livia Cardew/Coriolanus Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Beginnings and Endings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reupload of a story in progress on FFN, since it is currently broken. All chapters after chapter 8 will be crossposted.

**CHAPTER I. BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS**

_The hour of time, and the delicious season;_

_But not so much, that did not give me fear_

_A lion’s aspect which appeared to me._

**HAYMITCH ABERNATHY (17)**

**VICTOR OF THE 50TH HUNGER GAMES**

Even though it had been months since the Games, Haymitch held his mother’s hand whenever they were together.

“I almost lost you once, it’s not going to happen again.”

Those were the first words Soleil Abernathy said as her son stepped off the train and into her arms when he arrived back at District Twelve, his eyes teary from the journey. The first time he was in that vehicle, Haymitch was crying as well, mostly out of fear that he’d never see his family, his friends, anybody again. He’d never get another chance to hold his mother’s hand and have her say that everything would work out in the end.

Haymitch thought that was the end, but somehow the boy was able to make it out, even if he could no longer recognize the face he saw in the bathroom of the train as he journeyed back to his home. His time in the arena was like a movie with horrible editing, forgettable even if it left the District Twelve boy with permanent scars.

The film’s ending was the worst part, Haymitch and Maysilee wandering the arena until they saw a cliff of sorts, before his District Partner, his ally, announced that she was breaking up their alliance since she didn’t want to have to kill him.

“I’m sorry Hay, I wish it could be both of us, I really do.”

Haymitch laughed through the anger, kicking rocks off the cliff until he noticed them bouncing off the barrier that marked the end of the arena. It could have been a fun game for him to play as he suffered through the boredom he would face without an ally, but his momentarily enjoyment was interrupted by familiar screams, Maysilee’s screams.

He ran over to see the girl on the ground, the beaks of pink birds in her neck as her screams turned to gasps for air and her eyes began to close.

Despite the fact that Maysilee’s death wasn’t Haymitch’s final moment in the arena, it was the last one he could remember. The District Twelve boy knew that he won at some point in the following hours, but all he could recall was body shaking as he grabbed Maysilee’s hand and waited for the cannon to sing the song of her death.

It was the same way he held his mother’s hand now, a bit too firm even if the tightness of the grip was explainable.

“I almost lost you once, it’s not going to happen again.”

Mrs. Abernathy repeated the phrase at the conclusion of her son’s Victory Tour, the woman insisting she would tag along as the pair walked through the halls of the main building of the Capitol to meet with the President as the man had requested.

“What does he want to talk to you for?” Her voice wavered whenever she spoke nowadays. It had since the moment Haymitch’s name was called at the Reaping Ceremony, and even though he was now alive and well, the middle-aged woman still had trouble getting her words out.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Haymitch looked down at his mother, her worried expression matching his. Even though he was only five feet and eight inches, he was still taller than his mother by at least half a foot.

Why does he want to meet with me anyways?

Haymitch had never had a private conversation with Coriolanus Snow before. While the District Twelve boy was familiar with the man and they had seen eachother a few times, those interactions were mainly publicity and they never truly had spoken to one another.

“Maybe he wants to congratulate you?” Mrs. Abernathy remained optimistic, pinching her son’s cheeks and ruffling her hands through his dark hair and scratching his head like she did when he was a baby, “You did win the Quarter Quell afterall!”

While she was never explicitly proud of her son for killing people, Haymitch’s mother was certainly proud of him for surviving against forty-seven other Tributes.

“I’m sure that’s it then,” He took a deep breath as they arrived at the big brown door that marked President Snow’s office and sat on the red velvet bench next to it. Despite the fact that Haymitch had grown to loathe the Capitol and everything that it stood for, he was certainly impressed by its fancy architecture, the cremé molding on the walls and the chiseled marble columns appealing to his eyes which had previously only seen the rundown shacks in Twelve.

They sat outside the door for close to five minutes before hearing a firm click and turning their heads to see the broad man’s frame.

While Haymitch had never been explicitly “afraid” of President Coriolanus Snow,he could tell everything about the man was meant to evoke fear. He was taller than the District Twelve boy by at least a few inches, and his black shoes seemed to contribute to loud footsteps. He wore a pinstripe suit that looked freshly tailored, a clean white shirt with a blue tie and a white rose pinned to his lapel. His hair was greying and on the longer side and he had a somewhat thick beard which barely masked the naturally sinister look in his eyes. Haymitch knew he was supposed to be scared of the President, but after the Games it was hard for him to fear anything.

“There you are Mr. Abernathy,” His deep voice was somewhat jarring, “I’ve been waiting so long for you.”

“Am I late?” Haymitch began to panic, looking at the new watch one of the Capitolites had gifted him with.

“Not at all,” Snow smiled as he twisted his left thumb through his beard, “I’m just excited.”

Haymitch got up from the bench, his mother following him before the President delivered devastating news, “I didn’t realize she was coming with you?”

“Can I, Mr. President,” Haymitch’s mother nearly choked through her words, “Just to make sure he’s safe.”

Snow hesitated before speaking again, “I suppose you can, but rest assured, I’d take care of your son no matter what.”

“I’d prefer she come,” Haymitch grabbed his mother’s hand, pulling her up from the bench, “Thank you for being accommodating.”

The District Twelve boy began to feel uneasy as he entered Snow’s office. The walls were decorated with portraits of every Victor in chronological order save for a missing photo in the tenth frame, and the windows were barely open. The black carpet smelled musty but besides that the room was fairly clean. The President sat in a large white chair behind a tall mahogany desk and Haymitch and his mother sat on somewhat small stools.

“I trust you understand what I have to talk to you about today,” Snow coughed twice before addressing the Abernathys.

“I really don’t, Mr. President,” Haymitch hesitated before speaking to the man.

“Your behavior in the finale?” The President tapped his fingers on the desk.

Haymitch really had no idea what happened in the finale when it occurred, but looking back on the video he was shown, he didn’t really see any issue. He was with a girl from One when he slammed his axe against the barrier, remembering how it reflected the rocks from earlier in the day, and watched it decapitate her. After watching it he actually thought it was a fairly smart move on his part. It certainly wasn’t anything worth discussing in a negative light as far as he saw it.

“Yes?” The District Twelve boy was still confused.

“You sabotaged my entire Quell!” Snow got out of his chair and pounded with his hand on the table, “How do you not see what the issue is?”

“I,” Mrs. Abernathy took a deep breath before speaking, “I just think he was using his natural resources.”

It was almost maddening the way President Snow was able to go from cool and collected to nothing short of a monster. He showed no remorse as he reached into one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a pistol, “Bullshit.”

He pointed the gun at Mrs. Abernathy, the woman shaking and in tears, still holding the hand of her son as if it was her lifeline, “Please don’t shoot him.”

Even though the gun was pointed at her, the woman was more concerned for her son. Snow’s pupils blared at the family as he pulled back the top portion of the weapon before putting his finger on the trigger, “Why would I do that?”

Haymitch tried to grab his mother and run somewhere, anywhere but the confusing situation he had somehow been thrust into but it was no hope. Snow pressed on the trigger, barely making a sound a single bullet flying into Mrs. Abernathy’s skull in between her eyes.

She was still holding Haymitch’s hand as she collapsed to the ground. The District Twelve boy tried removing the bullet even though he knew it was deep in her head and there was nothing he could do about it. He never thought he would see a dead body so close again, much less the corpse of somebody who was inarguably the most important person in his life. The person who cared for him more than he thought he deserved to be cared for, the person who loved him more than he thought he deserved to be loved was on the floor, blood dripping onto Haymitch’s hands from the hole between her eyes.

He didn’t understand what was happening, it all was going by so fast. The memories of the people Haymitch had slaughtered flooded his head as he watched his mother’s eyes shut for good, a final “I love you,” before she was completely gone.

“You monster,” Haymitch didn’t know what to say to the man who was standing so carelessly above him as if nothing had happened. He wanted to run but his feet wouldn’t let him.

“Would you like to discuss what you did wrong now,” Snow taunted him as if he was a child, “I don’t want my carpets to get even more stained.


	2. A Tale of Two Victors

**CHAPTER II. A TALE OF TWO VICTORS**

_And as the wings of starlings bear them on_

_In the cold season in large band and full,_

_So doth that blast the spirits maledict_

**SAPPHIRA STARLETT (43)**

**VICTOR OF THE 25TH HUNGER GAMES**

As hard as Sapphira tried to make it fun, bedtime was still her daughter’s biggest enemy.

“You said I could stay up and watch a movie,” Much like her mother, Cressida Starlett-Cray couldn’t resist a good film to pass the time instead of sleeping.

“You can watch a movie in your dreams!” Sapphira lifted the giggling seven-year-old and carried her up the stairs of the family mansion. She was eager to get back to the party she was throwing downstairs, eager to get back to the glory that was once her norm but now an occasional blessing.

“Those movies are never as good as the ones on the screen,” Cressida protested, kicking her mother a bit too hard in the back, “I want to watch a movie with you and with mama!”

“We have our friends over,” Sapphira booped her daughter’s button nose before setting her down on the marble flooring, “Mama and I will watch whatever movie you want tomorrow… I promise.”

“You do?” The blonde girl extended her pinky, Sapphira hooking onto it with her own, “You pinky swear?”

“I pinky swear, Cressida,” Sapphira played with her daughter's hair, neatly arranged in two braids, “But only if you get a good night sleep.”

“Okay, fine,” Cressida pouted, her arms crossed, “Goodnight mom!”

“Goodnight Cressida,” She smiled as she watched her daughter run through the halls and into her bedroom.

If somebody told Sapphira Starlett that she would be married and the adopted mother of a rambunctious seven-year-old twenty five years ago, she would have laughed yet twenty or so years into her marriage with Crista Cray, the Victor of the 27th Hunger Games, she swore she never wanted it any other way. While her wife, originally from District Four, tended to be more subtle than she was, Sapphira loved her nonetheless and was proud of the beautiful family they had created with their four dogs (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony), and beautiful daughter Cressida who they adopted just weeks after her biological parents left her on the footstep of the District One orphanage.

Even though they weren’t biologically related, the girl definitely had Sapphira’s spunk and she wanted nothing more than to watch movies with her two mothers, (Sapphira called Mom and Crista called Mama) and she’d be a hypocrite to not let her daughter enjoy the films she herself used to watch late at night when she was lonely and her own parents hadn’t bothered to say goodnight to her. While she was nervous at first, Crista assured her that she wouldn’t turn into her own parents whilst raising Cressida, and she was right. There was nothing Sapphira loved more than watching her daughter mimic her every quirk and pretend she was the movie star her mother once was.

“What took so long?” Crista took her wife’s hand as she descended down the staircase. She was wearing a silk navy dress with white gloves, her red hair in a bun with pushpins. It was the perfect foil to Sapphira’s pantsuit of the same color paired with white heels that were just high enough that she could say she was the taller wife.

“Cressida didn’t want to go to sleep again,”Sapphira sighed giving her wife a light peck on the cheek, “I told her we’ll watch a movie together tomorrow.”

“Which one?” Crista stared at Sapphira the same way she did when they were in their twenties, lust in her eyes, “You Reap What You Sow?”

“She didn’t specify, but probably,” Sapphira chuckled at the reference of her first feature film and Cressida’s latest hyperfixation. It wasn’t her best work and it was funny to look back at the joy on her face despite all the drama that was going on behind the scenes. She couldn’t remember most of it besides the fact her ex-girlfriend dumped her a few days before wrap out of frustration with Sapphira’s trauma from the Games making her afraid of sex. She couldn’t blame Anaïs for leaving, but sex with Crista was certainly better than anything she could have offered, though Cressida’s presence limited it. Neither of them minded all that much.

Crista led Sapphira back into the dining room of their home where their party was taking place. There wasn’t any occasion to be throwing such a celebration besides Sapphira simply wanting to. Long gone were the days where she was always in the spotlight, the Gem of Panem herself, and she was beginning to accept it. She was beginning to accept it before the Quarter Quell where she was suddenly relevant again. Cameras showed up to her house nearly every morning in the weeks leading up to the Games and Sapphira forgot just how much she missed shooing them away. When she finally arrived at the Capitol, the paparazzi was nearly unavoidable. She felt just how she did when she was just eighteen, fresh off her Victory Tour, performing at the inauguration of President Snow. Sapphira once again felt like the queen she remembered herself as.

But just as soon as it started, Sapphira’s second wave of stardom ended.

She was in the Mentors’ room watching the conclusion of the 50th Games, Razzie Astaire, a Victor from One whom she mentored herself besides her. Of the three Tributes remaining, two were from One. There was a recent dry-spot in Tributes from One winning, and the two Mentors were excited to bring another home. It was about time afterall.

“There’s no way that wimp from Twelve can kill both Chateau and Milan,” Sapphira remembered Razzie whispering in her ear as the three Tributes gathered among the edges of the arena.

They watched in horror as Haymitch Abernathy ricocheted his axe against the barrier, killing the two kids from One almost instantly. Sapphira and Razzie were horrified, grabbing onto each others’ arms and trying not to cry over the fact their ticket to securing One’s reputation as the producer of both the Quell Victors was gone.

“What I’m most upset about is that the punk cheated,” Sapphira fumed as she left the room, Razzie closely following her.

“He was taking advantage of his surroundings,” They insisted, trying to prevent her from having a nervous breakdown, “I don’t know why this is such a big deal to you.”

How could he not see?

If another kid from One was the Victor of the Second Quell, Sapphira would be regarded as a superior Mentor, people in the Capitol remarking about how “she’s still got it,” and clamouring at her feet once again. Her status as a legend, a star, would be returned to her and she’d never have to worry about it fading.

All I do is fade.

She was selfish to be so utterly jealous of a seventeen year old from the poorest District who somehow defied all odds and won without even having a mentor, but Sapphira couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help the fact that whenever she saw Haymitch Abernathy’s face on the television, usually occupying slots that were once dedicated to playing her films, she wanted to scream.

“He seems nice,” Cressida would always try to comfort her mother but she didn’t really know how.

“You’ll always be a star to me,” Crista did the same.

It was worthless though, Sapphira being able to go out in public without being chased by the paparazzi. What was the point in going out if nobody cared?

She had to be strong though, for Crista, for Cressida, for her own well-being, and the random parties she threw somewhat helped.

“I’d like to give a toast,” Sapphira hit her glass of soda water (she’d been sober for twenty-four years now, perhaps the only non-familiar thing she was proud of) as she addressed the long table of her friends (though they were few), her family (though she still hadn’t forgiven her father for cheating on her mother, even if Victoria was dead), and everybody else, “As most of you know, the 51st Games are approaching.”

“You’ve only been talking about it for weeks,” Razzie, who was on her left side sighed, “You want us to take home another Victor, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sapphira chuckled, needing another Victor for One more than ever, “I’d like to toast to the future of District One. May we be restored to our former glory in the 51st Games.”

“May we be restored to our former glory in the 51st Games,” Crista echoed her wife, a huge smile on her face from across the table, even if she was native to District Four.

“To District One,” Razzie decided to toast afterall, “To District One and to Sapphira Starlett.”

“Oh you’re too kind,” She laughed, pouring them a glass of wine, “To me too, I guess.”

She really wasn’t that bummed Razzie decided to include her. It was a sweet gesture.

“To Sapphira Starlett, the love of my life,” Crista took a sip from her glass, everybody else following her before they began their meal.

After dinner, Crista insisted everybody follow her into the parlor so that Sapphira could sing a song or two and play the piano. She knew that her wife was able to beautifully decompress with the presence of music, and she was the sort of woman who always wanted to help.

“Well, well,” Sapphira chuckled, pretending she didn’t want to play, “If you insist I guess I have to.”

Everybody cheered, glasses of wine still in their hands. Sapphira lived for the fabricated attention the parties allowed her to rejoice in. They reminded her of the intimate concerts she would play for her fans at The Blitz, the club where she had her final rally before the 25th Games, the place that started it all, before embarking on her national tours. Nobody listened to her music anymore.

Nobody cared about anything Sapphira Starlett did except her family, and she was struggling to grapple with the fact that it would have to be enough.

**LIANA TAYLOR (40)**

**VICTOR OF THE 26TH HUNGER GAMES**

Why have they called me in this time?

Liana wondered the reasoning for Clemensia Dovecote and Lysistrata Vickers' insistence that she come to their office first thing in the morning. She appreciated her bosses and the opportunities they provided for her, but she didn’t appreciate waking up before noon, especially in the off-season where she didn’t have that many muttations to design since the Games were still a few months away.

She was extremely grateful for everything that had happened to her since winning the 26th Hunger Games. She was extremely grateful for the fact that once Beetee Latier won the 40th Hunger Games, she was invited to live in the Capitol and design muttations, a new job created just for her.

“So, Head of Muttations, how do you like the sound of that?” Liana was always surprised to see how appreciative President Coriolanus Snow was of anything she did, always complimenting her sketches and as a result, her, “Ever since your Games, I’ve always thought you were too intelligent to be a mere Mentor, and with Beetee eligible to mentor now, I say you come use your brains to their full potential.”

Even 25 years later, Liana shuttered at any mention of her Games. She tried her best to block them out, always creating things, inventing, since she didn’t need to think about the monster she once was.

“Who would I be to say no?”

And just like that, Liana moved up in the ranks of Panem’s social hierarchy and all by doing what she loved most. She wasn’t immune to the fact that she was essentially traumatizing children in the same way she was traumatized, but oddly enough it was a coping mechanism, as sadistic as it was. In her heart, Liana knew she was still a monster, but at least she could push it away from her mind, something mentoring did not allow.

She had the tendency to be awoken by one of her fifteen cats, typically Minerva since she was the oldest and the neediest. When she first got home from the Games, Liana adopted the fifteen street cats that her District Partner Edison had taken in, and over the years as one cat died, she’d replace it with another. Almost all the initial cats had passed away save for Minerva who was a mere kitten when they met. Liana appreciated the fact that she was named after the Roman goddess of intelligence and wisdom, as the cat’s presence came to remind her that she was still intelligent, even when she didn’t feel like she was.

“What do you want,” Liana spoke to Minerva who was scratching her face,because it wasn’t like she had any friends to speak to.

Obviously Minerva didn’t respond because she was a cat, and cats don’t talk.

She gave the cat her morning vitamin supplement as well as food for all the other members of her feline fleet before leaving her messy apartment for the office of Clemensia and Lysistrata, “You better behave!”

While vehicular transportation was always available to her, Liana Taylor preferred to walk wherever she went, even if it meant waking up disgustingly early. She was still fascinated by the sculpted marble architecture that the Capitol was known for, even after living there for over a decade. Besides, it was hard for anybody not to be impressed by the towering buildings with neon lights, her own apartment not an exception.

The walk to the Gamemakers office was a bit under half an hour, but Liana didn’t mind it at all. She took pride in waving at all the eccentric Capitol citizens, the only people who loved her when she didn’t love herself, even if she loathed small talk with them.

I’m so lucky, I don’t know if I deserve this but I’m so lucky.

When she arrived, she scanned her badge on the door, smiling as it unlocked and she ran inside to enter the Head Gamemakers office, still not sure why they needed to see her. She hoped they were doing well, since they had been at the Head Gamemaker gig for a quarter of a century almost, and Liana could definitely see how it would be mentally draining.

“Oh, Liana, you’re early!” Lysistrata stopped her in the hallway. Liana looked at her watch to see that she was indeed early, and that was a rarity for her.

“I’m early!” She mimicked the Head Gamemakers enthusiasm, “I guess I was just that happy to see you,” her playful sarcasm was evident.

“Well Clemmie and I are ready, so follow me, I guess,” Lysistrata guided Liana through the halls of the office building as if she didn’t know where their office was, as if she hadn’t been there a thousand times.

She was still in awe of their cozy office, an oldish sofa adding charm and their desks neatly organized. The books were neatly stacked in their shelves and it was an overall immaculate space, especially in comparison to Liana’s clusterfuck down the hall.

“I like your office,” Liana said the same thing every time she sat on the sofa and wrapped herself in their flannel blanket.

“Well it’s going to be yours next year,” Clemensia dropped the bomb presumably too early.

“Clemmie,” Lysistrata playfully shoved her wife, “We were going to ask her all fancy, remember?”

“Oh sorry,” She laughed, sitting down at her desk, “Liana, do you know why we called you here today?”

“Not at all,” She joked, now aware of the purpose of their meeting. In all honesty, her heart was beating a thousand miles an hour, and she didn’t know what to think. Was she really worthy of being Head Gamemaker, especially after all the horrible things she did even if they were twenty five years ago? She couldn’t help the fact that she would occasionally still get nightmares of her cutting down Piper’s throat followed by her sister yelling at her on the Victory Tour. She remembered when the District 10 Mentor Olive said that she would never forget unless she was “lucky,” and while on paper Liana Taylor was indeed “lucky,” she still had the occasional memories of the monster she still was.

“Well then,” Lysistrata didn’t catch Liana’s sarcasm, “My wife and I are retiring next year.”

Liana wasn’t too surprised by that. She could tell that they were getting old and tired, though it would also make sense if the forcefield incident was the catalyst and they were fired. While Clemensia and Lysistrata didn’t see the issue with it, Liana was personally upset since she had prepared a nice series of muttations to finish out the Games with, and they went to waste, “Oh?”

“We want you to follow in our footsteps,” Lysistrata exclaimed, her wife clapping alongside her, “Coriolanus agrees that you’re the perfect person for the job.”

As much as it made sense, Liana was still in shock that her, somebody born in the Districts was somehow capable of being in charge of the Games, “Can I ask why me?”

“Well Coriolanus said that since you won the Games yourself, you probably a unique perspective on how the Games work, and you’ll be an excellent fit to run them once we retire,” She didn’t really get how they were so comfortable calling him Coriolanus, but regardless his point made sense.

“I understand that, actually,” Liana chuckled, trying not to be too excited for the opportunity. She would finally be allowed to put all her ideas into effect, void of any of the qualms that Clemensia and Lysistrata had. Liana hated that she was so excited to be in charge of something she knew was so vile, but maybe it would help her, “I’m so thrilled to have this opportunity!”

“Is that a yes then?” Clemensia inquired, leaning on the desk.

“It is!” Liana smiled, freeing herself from the blanket to celebrate, “What are the next steps?”

“You’ll shadow us this year while still working on your muttations,” Lysistrata exclaimed, “But next year, the Games are all yours.”

Liana blushed, still in disbelief that she had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, and that she was going to accept it, “Well then I can’t wait to get working with you guys!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading the second prologue of Domestic Tranquility. We have a few more of these before we can get the ball rolling on Introductions, just so I can introduce everybody to all the characters that you need to know for the rest of the story. For those of you who’ve read my stories before, I hope you enjoyed the updates on Sapphira and Liana, and for everybody else, I hope you enjoyed meeting them! I’ve been thrilled with the submissions I’ve received so far, but obviously I need more so please get them in by October 15th. Next prologue we’ll be hearing from Lucien and Livia Snow, since he’s no longer a baby and she has certainly changed since A Perfect Union.  
> Have a great day,  
> Lindsay


	3. Thicker Than Water

**CHAPTER III. THICKER THAN WATER**

_When I had lifted up my brows a little,  
The Master I beheld of those who know,  
Sit with his philosophic family_.

**LUCIEN SNOW (25)  
FIRST SON OF PANEM**

Lucien had grown to realize that the wrong Snow was in charge of Panem.

_Explosion in the mines of District Twelve; 5,000 Dead and Counting!_

_What's wrong with District Six? Morphling addiction at an all time high!_

_District Five power grids malfunction for the third night in a row!_

Headlines flashed across the television every night yet Lucien's father did nothing. He saw the problems in the Districts _(the Districts he hated for existing)_ and didn't do a damn thing to fix them.

"You should probably talk about what's happening," One night he made the critical error of disagreeing with his father, "The Districts are a mess right now."

"I don't need to talk about _them_ ," The brooding man scoffed at the dinner table, the bottom of his form slamming against the table, "They'll get better, they always do."

 _Why is_ ** _he_** _president if he only rules_ ** _some_** _of us?_

Lucien wanted to do something about it all, the explosions, the addiction, the dark cold nights. Lucien couldn't do _anything._

"Our son is right," His mother tended to take his side during these increasingly prevalent arguments, "You have to do something Coriolanus."

"What point is there in addressing issues that the Districts caused for themselves?"

There wasn't much talking for the rest of that meal. There wasn't much talking in the Snow household _overall_.

Lucien wished he could say that he experienced love growing up. He wished he could say he was anything _but_ a symbol of power for his father. The older he grew, the more he saw the man. He wished he didn't have to see him.

" _Why him?"_

He kept wanting to ask his mother why her, a lovely person (at least by comparison) wed _him_. He wished he knew what was going through her head on the day they got married, the day she devoted her life to a _monster._

Lucien's parents slept in separate beds in separate rooms. They always had. They weren't in love, never were, and never would be. All the First Son knew regarding love was that his parents weren't in it. _They couldn't be._ Lucien didn't know love. He didn't know what it was like to be _wanted_ , overhearing his father condemn him for being alive on several occasions.

" _Why did you keep him?"_

He tried to sleep through the fights between his parents that happened as he grew up, " _I never asked for a son."_

" _At least pretend you did. It makes people like you more."_

" _I don't need people to like me; I need them to_ ** _fear_** _me."_

Lucien had grown to realize that the wrong Snow was in charge of Panem.

He thought that shadowing his father during the Games would help him understand the man. _It didn't._ All Lucien saw was pain, thinking of the families that lost their children to the country, the Capitol, _his father_.

_Am I supposed to be entertained?_

He watched the Games growing up yet he failed to see the purpose. Why were people being punished now for things that happened in the past? Why were these people expected to be in control of the past?

"I don't get it," He finally approached his mother one night while his father was asleep, "I don't get any of it."

"What's not to get?" Livia Snow could be clueless at times, especially during the evenings.

" _Everything."_

He told her about the Games, the sleepless nights he could imagine were the norm for the families of its victims. He told her about the love, the love he didn't feel, the love he never thought he would feel.

"I love you," The First Lady stroked her son's cheek, "You _know_ I love you."

"He doesn't" Silence filled the room.

Livia couldn't debate against that, "He's wrong for that; you're the best son I could ask for."

"He's wrong for many things," Lucien went on to discuss the other issues he saw, the ignorance towards everything that happened in the Districts, everything that could be fixed so damn easily.

"I know." A single tear rolled down his mother's eye as she shut the book she was reading before bed, "I know it's wrong."

"Then why are you still with him?" The question Lucien didn't want to ask escaped his lips. He had been wondering about it his whole life, and he wanted answers. No, maybe he _didn't_ want answers. Maybe he just wanted closure as to why the so docile, so maternal Livia Snow ended up with _him_.

"I was selfish," Her tears turned to sobs, "I thought it would help me politically," She held her son's hand, Lucien's fingers wiping away his tears, "What good is politics now?"

Lucien didn't have a clue either. He would never understand what made people so hungry for being in charge, but he knew he'd do a better job at it. He knew the Games had to go, he knew _everything_ had to go if he wanted Panem to be a somewhat tolerable place.

He was sick of the public appearances where he stood next to his father like a pet, something to be admired, not something real. He didn't want to be a symbol of politics anymore.

"You didn't know he would be so cruel," Lucien tried to comfort his mother, "You didn't know."

He hoped she didn't at least. He hoped she was oblivious to what she was getting into.

"I did," Livia sighed in embarrassment, "I knew he was like this yet I wanted him. I don't know why somebody could want him."

Perhaps he was charming in his younger days. Lucien didn't understand how he could be charming.

"It's not too late," His words were encouraging, "We can still have a life without him."

He regretted dropping the bombshell he had been thinking for years. He knew it was the only thing that could make either of them happy, though the implications were so stupidly _severe_.

"Do you think I should," Livia's eyes stopped watering as she looked at Lucien with a sense of awe, "I've been thinking it but I'm afraid."

Lucien knew what it would lead to. He knew it would lead to his father throwing something against the wall, and he knew it would lead to his mother's reputation being destroyed. He didn't want her to be destroyed; he wanted her to be happy. Lucien knew his father's presence was what was preventing her from being happy. Hell, it was preventing him from being happy. He just wanted to run away with his mother, even if it meant a farewell to the luxuries he had grown sickeningly used to. They meant nothing to him if he couldn't be happy, if he couldn't be loved.

" _Yes."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading the third prologue! Sorry it's on the shorter side but I wanted to get it out today and I've been going through some things and this was all I could muster. Submissions are still open for another nine days so I would like to see some more! In the meantime I hope you enjoy the next prologue before the reveal of the cast. I have a feeling it's going to be amazing!Best,Lindsay


	4. Freezing Over

**CHAPTER IV. FREEZING OVER**

_Each one his countenance held downward bent:  
From mouth the cold, from eyes the doeful heart  
Among them witness of itself procures._

**CORIOLANUS SNOW (59)  
PRESIDENT OF PANEM**

He wanted to crumple up Livia's letter. The moment she approached him with a manila envelope in her hand, he knew what was inside of it, he knew that he didn't want to read it; he knew he had to read it.

"What is this?" Coriolanus pretended to be unaware in hopes his wife would regret giving him the envelope, "Should I open it."

Livia was trembling, _good_. The President had never seen the woman decaying the way she was. Her pale hands were trembling, her eyelids flickering like a tragic movie. The two of them knew they were facing the end to some extent, they just didn't want to say it.

"Yes," She nodded, a sense of finality in her voice, "Please, Corioulanus–"

"–Mr. President," He was long past casualties with her. Yes, they shared a house, they shared kisses in public so people wouldn't know there were issues in their relationship, _things are fine, Livia and I are fine,_ but she was never going to be more than another one of Coriolanus' subjects. She knew it too, she just didn't want to admit the man she once professed her love to in a room full of candles _(if only they burned it down)_ was just as much as a monster as her friends had warned her she was.

_It's not like I mind the monster comparisons; they come from people who mean nothing. Everybody and everything means nothing._

Coriolanus used the tip of his nail to cut through the seal of the envelope, the smell of the adhesive polluting his nostrils. It no longer smelt like blood and roses, the President's favorite perfume. He folded back the flap and squeezed the edges, taking a glance inside to see a sheet of paper, "You're sure?"

 _I'm much too generous with her._ He didn't have to give her another chance to retract the envelope, _that's what makes me so nice._ Coriolanus couldn't help but sound like one of the schoolgirls who would pick on him when he thought of Livia. She was one of them, laughing at him when he was barely a teenager in the hallways of their school, teasing his odd presentation and subdued demeanor – _at least subdued compared to the other pigs in the Capitol._

"Positive," As Livia spoke, the President caught a glimpse of his son (the accident) in the corner of the room. _He must have some relation to the envelope; Lucien always runs when trouble walks._

The Snow family dining room was used to being empty, Coriolanus and Livia always sitting on opposite ends of the meters-long dining table, Lucien somewhere in the middle. Livia was close to him now though, barely a foot away. It was the closest they had been in years.

Coriolanus continued to open Livia's "gift," pulling out the single sheet of white paper from the envelope before placing it in front of him on the table so that he could read it aloud, "Divorce notice?"

Livia once again nodded, her face devoid of even more color than it previously had, "I'm sorry."

She wasn't. He knew she wasn't.

"Okay then," He continued to read the fine print of the paper, disagreeing with every little complaint that Livia had compiled about him. _Not that I expected anything of value from her._

There was once again a deafening silence in the dining room, Lucien's head still in the crack of the doorway, "Did you have anything to do with this?"

He ran before he could answer the question.

"You'll be okay," Livia's words were meaningless.

_Everything is falling apart; why am I falling apart?_

Coriolanus had tried being more pleasant but it wasn't working. Nothing ever worked for him anyways. _Why am I surprised?_ His Panem wasn't what he wanted it to be. It was chaos, and not even the beautiful kind. _Can chaos even be beautiful?_ He tried to love the people of Panem, but they hadn't given him anything worth loving for weeks.

"I didn't ask," He couldn't show any signs of displeasure in front of her. He was _way_ better than that.

"So you think this is a good idea then," Livia referred to the divorce.

It would destroy his reputation, her's as well, "I never loved you."

"I never should have convinced myself I did," A tear welled in Livia's eye, "Why would anybody love you?"

_I don't need love._

Coriolanus scoffed at his wife's remark, "This is going to destroy what people think of me, what people think of _you_."

"I no longer care what they think," Livia pushed back the glasses she wore for aesthetic purposes to wipe away a tear, "I've spent too much time living under you."

_Did she? I never noticed._

"You'll be ruined," Coriolanus no longer had a clue what he was suggesting. He didn't want Livia to stay, he didn't want her to begin this, "People already know that our marriage was your idea."

The President had to laugh when he thought about the day Livia came into his office during the 25th Games to propose the two of them wed so that their social statuses would benefit. _Has there even been any benefit after 25 years?_

"I told you that I don't care," She was adamant, "Destroy my reputation yourself if you'd like. _I don't care._ "

"Then that's what I'll do," Coriolanus crumpled the paper beneath his fingers, "You asked for it."

"You vex me," Livia pulled her chair away from the table before getting up, "Have fun sitting on your throne. It means nothing."

It meant everything and she knew it. She was just jealous he was in charge and she was his shadow.

_I've more important things to worry about though. I should see how the Games are going._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WooHoo! We are finally done with prologues which means the actual story can happen now. Lord, I'm so excited for this fun to begin.  
> Thank you so much to everybody for submitting to Domestic Tranquility! These past five weeks have had me on my toes as I awaited all the submissions, and I'm so glad that I have received the best Tributes that I have ever laid my eyes on. This cast is phenomenal and I am so excited to begin this journey.  
> That being said, if your Tribute didn't get accepted, I am truly sorry. I received so many amazing submissions and I promise that this decision doesn't mean anything in regards to my opinion of you as a person or as a writer. I understand that you may be upset, but I kindly ask you refrain from spreading negativity in the server. If you would like to hear about how I came to my decision regarding your Tribute, you are more than welcome to PM me.  
> I've created a blog for the story which will have information regarding all the Tributes, as well as the other characters and the sponsoring system I've created. I'd love to know what everybody thinks of it, so you can go to domestictranquility.site to see all the Tributes!  
> Let's get this show on the road,Linds


	5. Magnificence and Hesson

**CHAPTER V. MAGNIFICENCE AND HESSON**

_For all the gold that is beneath the moon,  
Or ever has been, of these weary souls  
Could never make a single one repose._

**MAGNIFICENCE GRANDEURA CALLAROSA (18)  
DISTRICT ONE FEMALE**

Magnificence Grandeura Callarosa attended a funeral every day.

She'd put on a black lace dress secured with a bow in the back, heels that are high while still being modest, a dark mauve lipstick and her hair in a high ponytail. The District One girl didn't need to draw attention to herself in those moments, preferring to let the ambiance of everybody she ever loved fill the room, Beau's night terrors often the loudest noises. Her father Sardius and mother Grandeura (the source of her middle name) sat in the front row of the Cathedral, relaxing her son to maintain the peace of the room. Even the girls from the Career Academy, as vain as they were always attended, their heads in their laps and tissues in their hands as the eulogies played in their heads like broken records. Magnificence didn't mind the noise, she was used to it. She didn't care about the tears that were coming from people besides Beau. The District One girl barely put thought into the daily funerals, since who on earth would care all that much about their own funeral?

Beau's screams were often what shut Magnificence out of the recurring dreams of her demise. The boy was already two years old, _(They grow up so fast.)_ yet one wouldn't know it based on the way he cried as if he was born mere moments ago.

"It'll be alright, my sweet price," She cradled her son as if he was the most valuable thing in the world; he already was to Magnificence. The District One girl was yet to figure out the nuances in getting a child to quiet itself, much less raise Beauregard Alexander Callarosa into the respectful young man he was destined to be, "You're going to be just fine, mama's right here."

And Magnificence didn't intend to leave Beau's side, at least not permanently.

"Morning' Maggie," Only her father was allowed to address her by her childhood nickname, "Morning' Beau."

Sardius Callarosa greeted his daughter and grandson nearly every morning before going off to work as a Peacekeeper. Even though he was in his mid 50s, the man had a youthful way about him, and perhaps that was Magnificence's favorite quality in him.

"Good morning dad," The District One girl handed her son to Sardius, knowing that he would want to hug him before he embarked on his day, "Beau says good morning as well."

Magnificence's son giggled as Sardius lifted him up high into the air and tickled underneath his arms, "Good morning my sweet grandson."

With a concerned look on his face (he was always afraid he would somehow drop Beau), he put the toddler on the ground and gave his daughter a warm embrace, "You're going to do great things today."

"Great!" Beau delivered one of his rare but nonetheless charming quips to his grandfather, "Today!"

Matching his mother's bright tone, the toddler laughed as Sardius left the room leaving the two of them alone. The District One girl was lucky to say that they were seldom alone, and even when they were, it rarely felt like it. So many outcomes could have happened the night Magnificence revealed she was pregnant with Beau, and she had no choice but to thank whoever it was up there that was looking out for her for giving her nothing but love from her parents.

If only their love could help her predicament.

Magnificence walked with her son downstairs to deliver him to her mother Grandeura so that she could attend her lessons at the Career Academy for the day, "Are you sure you're fine taking him today?"

Her mother watched Beau almost every day, yet she couldn't help but feel bad for her. Grandeura did always say that she loved her grandson and spending time with him, but still Magnificence wished she didn't have to feel like such a burden on the family.

"I'm always more than happy to spend time with my handsome little man," Beau cheered as she crouched to the ground to give him a hug. Magnificence looked at the pair with awe, her mother as chipper as ever.

_If only I had that youth…_

"I'll miss you mama," Beau wrapped his arms around the District One girl, one last time before she went off to the Academy, "Great things!"

Magnificence ran her fingers through his coarse black hair before kissing him on the forehead and stepping out the door of the Callarosa family home. Walking to and from the District One Career Academy was just about the only time during any given day when it was just Magnificence, not Magnificence and Beau –just her alone. She wasn't all that sure how she should feel about that, the whole being alone thing. Sure, sure, she was alone when she slept, but for the District One girl, being alone and conscious was a whole different experience. It gave Magnificence time to think, and when she had that time, the paranoia often surfaced.

It gave Magnificence time to reflect on the fact that she wasn't alive anymore.

She'd felt that way for at least a year now, like she no longer existed, like she no longer _needed_ to exist. It wasn't like she was important in the grand scheme of things after all, not even to Beau – _He has mom and dad; he's fine. Probably likes them more anyways._ Magnificence did regret not being able to spend that much time with her son as of late, but she had to train up again, and pregnancy made her relatively weaker. The District One girl had to prove herself all over again, especially since she was slated to Volunteer in just a few weeks time.

 _I'm still shocked they picked me._ She remembered the day a month prior when Forero, one of the Head Trainers announced to everybody in attendance that Magnificence Grandeura Callarosa and Hesson Adair Svárovský would be the "lucky two" to represent District One in the 51st Annual Hunger Games. She recalled the shit-eating grin on Hesson's face as they called his name while he walked to the front of the classroom and winked. Magnificence's response was quite similar, albeit more subdued.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sardius was rightfully nervous when Magnificence told him and Grandeura about her newest endeavor, "What about Beau?"

She didn't know how to answer his question. It was true that Beauregard was the District One girl's pride and joy, and that he meant everything to her, but at the same time he would be fine without her. _It's not like he'll remember me if I leave for good._

Sardius couldn't protest much after that since Magnificence enrolling in the Career Academy at the ripe age of seven was his own idea. Her interest in athletics made her an obvious contender.

Magnificence didn't intend on losing though, but then again nobody did. She certainly had the skills to win with her wicked scalpel chain and katar abilities. She was just as trained as virtually any other Career to step out of District One, even if she had to remind herself of that from time to time.

She didn't have anything to lose either, she had already died almost a year ago, and her lack of appetite and need to sleep agreed with that statement. In fact, Magnificence died _every_ night, and she had gotten used to it. She had gotten used to the tears that would spawn as a result of her funeral, and she already knew the kind words that people would say about her as they dressed in black and said goodbye to her forever. It would be no different in the context of the Games.

She had everything to gain though, even in her life of luxury and splendor. The prime thing that the District One girl was fighting for was the concept of control, the one thing she had craved her whole life. Not necessarily in a manipulative or evil way, but rather in the sense that Magnificence Grandeura Callarosa wanted nothing more than to be in charge of her life. She hadn't felt that way since she was fifteen, and she was eager to regain the willpower she once had to do whatever she wanted, even when that was absolutely nothing.

She hated to admit it, but she could barely recognize her expression ever since giving birth to Beau, and Magnificence missed her old reflection, how innocent and carefree she was, how utterly unaware she was about everything that would soon happen to her.

 _She's so stupidly lucky_ , The District One girl would sigh whenever she saw an old photo of herself, _I miss being her._

Magnificence did love Beau, and she did love being his mother, but she wished she could have been his mother later. She wished she could have had him at twenty-six and not sixteen _(Though it's not like I fucking had a choice.)_ and that the situation regarding his birth could have been anything _but_ what actually happened.

It was a conflicting feeling for Magnificence, knowing that she was so utterly dead but that she couldn't do anything about it since she would die again the next night. She couldn't eat because she wasn't hungry, and she couldn't sleep because she was already in a permanent slumber, yet as miserable as she was, at least she still had Beau.

_Though I doubt Beau needs to have me; I doubt I'm cut out to be his mother._

The only good part was that Magnificence no longer blamed herself for the circumstances that led to Beau, though it was her choice to keep him and birth him. She'd had to repeat "it wasn't my fault" again and again to herself every night before bed, and even though the nightmares with _him_ still recurred, the District One girl knew she'd wake up eventually, and even if she was dead, she could try to live for Beau _(Lord knows why I'd live for myself, or why anybody would live for me)._

She longed for normal; she craved control. Her life wasn't normal and it was out of control. Luckily that was enough to get her through the grueling days at the Academy, even when the other girls mocked her.

_I don't have anything to lose. After all, I'm already dead._

**HESSON ADAIR SVÁROVSKÝ (18)  
DISTRICT ONE MALE**

_Beryl was supposed to be here five minutes ago,_ Hesson tried not to panic as he rubbed his palms against the legs of his navy blue jeans, his back resting against the wall of the alleyway between Luxor Street and Montclair Boulevard. _Six; shit._

The District One boy looked down at his communicuff to see a blinking red light, a sign that he was receiving a call; "yes," he lifted his left wrist to his ear, "Beryl?"

"I can see you," His friend's voice was fragile; she was nervous, "Hide yourself better and I'll be with you shortly."

"Right," Hesson flipped his gray hoodie up over his head and grabbed the strings to tighten it. He lifted his black leather duffle bag off the ground and ventured deeper into the alleyway, "This good?"

_CLICK._

The call disconnected. Hesson looked around for his friend for a moment or two until he saw a short hooded figure approach him, "Yes."

Usually he wasn't all that nervous when he saw Beryl, despite her obvious edge, but this time was different.

 _Are you sure this is a good idea? Are you_ ** _sure_** _that you're not being a dumbass right now?_

"It's good to see you," Hesson masked his nerves and ran his fingers through his brown hair, "Thank you so much."

"Cut the pleasantries; do you have the money?" Beryl wasted no time getting to the core purpose of their meeting, "I have two more people after you."

"Y-yes, sorry ma'am," The District One boy dug through his pockets, searching for what Beryl wanted from him. He's bought from her many _many_ times before, but it was always for his own enjoyment, never for what he was about to do. Hesson finally unveiled the $600 that he had stolen from his parent's safe in their closet. It was stupidly easy; the code was 0817, Hesson's birthday, _well, Alaban's birthday too._

"Thank you Svárovský," Beryl handed him a small white plastic bag, "It's been a pleasure, as always. Have fun!"

"This isn't for me," Hesson bit his tongue as soon as he spoke, "I mean it is. Have a nice day, Beryl."

Before the District One boy could put away his purchase, his "friend" had vanished, leaving him alone in the alleyway once again. Hesson was oddly accustomed to being alone though, he had been so many times, even when he was always with people. He was especially alone whenever he was with his twin brother.

Alaban may have been born seven minutes ahead of him, but as far as everybody else was concerned, he was born in another century; he was born a god. Everywhere Hesson went it was always "Alaban this," and "Alaban that," and he'd even be approached by strangers who'd call him by his brother's name. He was the golden Career boy that District One seemed to never run dry of, and as the years went by, Hesson had gotten sick of it.

_I'm not a complete failure… right?_

Even though he had almost gotten expelled a few times due to drug use _(due to the fact I want to have fun like a normal kid)_ , Hesson was a student at the District One Career Academy, and he was actually pretty damn good at whatever he did – _though I would be best if it wasn't for him_.

He knew what he had to do if he wanted to get ahead, if he wanted to be the Svárovský son that was chosen to be the designated Volunteer for the 51st Annual Hunger Games. _Maybe then I'll be relevant to mother and father, whatever that means to them at least._ He was scared still, one wrong move, and he would once again be the laughingstock of the Academy, despite the fact he had tried so hard and done so much to move past that.

"I'm so proud of your improvement, Hesson," Forero, one of the Head Trainers at the Academy's voice rang through his head. _I can't fuck this up and let him down, it has to be natural._

Forero was probably the only adult who actually believed in Hesson. He was the only one who admired his skills with the khopesh when all the other kids sneered about how it's a weapon for "Outer District scum." _I guess I'm scum then –oh-fucking well._ Forero admired the way Hesson used the weapon as both a sword and a sickle, giving him a unique advantage.

"Any other year you'd be a shoo-in to Volunteer, Hesson."

He didn't have another year; his time was quickly running dry. He _was_ eighteen after all, and the Reapings were only a few months away. This was his last chance, and he _would_ say that it would have gone to waste had he not done what he was about to do.

During his earlier teenage years, Hesson was what any responsible adult would call a "troublemaker," skipping classes at the Academy to do hard drugs or whatever or to "spend time" with the reject girls that were also jack-shit at whatever they were supposed to do at the Academy, _easy money._ It was then where he met Beryl in the exact same alleyway he was currently standing in, if only he knew how important that relationship would be now that the District One boy was grown.

He was lucky he picked up the khopesh when he did, since it was currently the fuel for his confidence which was just enough to mask the insecurities he had gained from being second best his whole life.

That's when he realized that the only way out of the hellhole that was his family, the hellhole that was being the second best Svárovský was to win the Hunger Games. He'd no longer need to rely on the reputation of his family, their boundless fortune. Hesson could be his own person, and he wouldn't even have to live with his parents _or_ Alaban. He could finally be free to be his own grown man, he just had to find a way to become the designated Volunteer. _I'd probably win the Games anyways; that Maggie girl who'd probably Volunteer alongside me was just pregnant, she can't be that strong._

As Hesson walked home from the alleyway, waiting until sunset to emerge from the dark so that nobody would see him, he couldn't help but walk with a bit of a spring in his step, _I've finally done it!_

Once he got home to the Svárovský family mansion, the District One boy dropped his bag in his room and slicked back his hair with gel so that he could be ready for dinner.

"How was your day today, Alaban," As per usual, his father Spessar had no interest in Hesson and whatever it was that he had done that day, _though today maybe that was for the better._

"Oh it was wonderful, father," Alaban's voice had always been unbelievably snooty, "Even though we had the day off, I _of course_ spent my time at the Academy, polishing my skills since they're going to announce who the designated Volunteers are soon."

"That's my boy," His father acted like Hesson was invisible, "You make your mother and I so utterly proud!"

"You've always been such a hard worker, it's true," Their mother Andra smiled at her favorite son, "You're going to do great things in the Games; I just know it."

"What did _you_ do today, Hesson," Seemingly the only time Alaban addressed his brother was when he wanted to one-up him, "I didn't see you at the Academy."

"I was with Ermine," The District One boy referenced his on-again off-again (currently off-again) girlfriend, "We had a lovely time, not that you care."

"Of course I care," Alaban mocked him, "I care that you think you're going to be designated Volunteer even though you spend time fooling around with practically every girl in District One. It's hilarious. I wouldn't be surprised if you were that Magnificence girl's baby daddy."

"I've literally never spoken to her," Hesson was telling the truth, though in fairness she was pleasant to the eyes and he would love the opportunity to speak to her or more than speak to her. She was probably easy too; _what kind of chick winds up pregnant at sixteen anyways?_

"Good, good," Alaban sneered, "I wouldn't want you messing around with that train wreck anyways."

Their parents never intervened during their bickering, and maybe that was for the better as things tended to get rather _uncomfortable_.

"I'm glad you used your time wisely, Alaban, unlike your brother," When Spessar didn't have anything to say, he often decided to dig at Hesson, "This is why you'll be the Svárovský son to Volunteer after all."

Nowadays, neither of Hesson's parents even tried to hide their favoritism, though that was good in the sense that it allowed him to validate the fact that they indeed loved Alaban more, and he wasn't just imagining things.

_I guess I have to do this then if I want to get away from this shit._

Later that night Hesson waited to ensure that nobody was awake before venturing into the living room of the house to find his brother's gym bag which he took to training. He was careful to not make a single sound as he unzipped the side pocket since he knew that the Trainers always checked it when they went through bags at the beginning of the day, and Alaban never put anything in there. _I can't believe I'm actually doing this._ He retrieved the bottle of dimethyltrienolone, one of the strongest synthetic steroids on the market, which he had purchased from Beryl along with two needles, and placed them inside Alaban's bag.

"We have a strict anti-drug policy against our oldest Trainees," The words of the staff at the Academy echoed through Hesson's ears, "That's why we have to check your bags every day. We can't have the good name of District One being tarnished by addicts."

Hesson re-zipped his brother's bag before returning to his bedroom so that he could sleep, _I can't believe this was so utterly easy after all._

**MAGNIFICENCE GRANDEURA CALLAROSA (18)  
DISTRICT ONE FEMALE**

She didn't realize how difficult it would be to say goodbye to Beau, how difficult it would be to say goodbye to her whole family.

"Where's mama going?" Beau didn't understand what was happening as the Callarosa family gathered in the Justice Building to say their goodbyes to Magnificence, "She be back?"

"I'll be back soon Beau," The District One girl crouched down to give her son a kiss on the forehead, "Mama just has to go on a little trip for a while."

_Am I making a terrible mistake?_

There was no way to explain what exactly Magnificence was doing to Beau without scaring him. She didn't want to scare him, but the tragic look in his eyes was beginning to break her, _what if I never see him again?_

 _This is fine._ She had to reassure herself that she would indeed see her son again in just a few weeks time, and when she came back, she would be better than ever. She would be free from Jasper and everything that happened between them, and she would be free to love her son unconditionally without the binds of her poor mental state. For once in her life, Magnificence Grandeura Callarosa would be in control.

"How long?" Her son's eyes began to water, Magnificence realizing they had never been apart for longer than twelve hours, "You come home soon, please?"

"I'm afraid we can't answer that Beau," Sardius was tense as he addressed his grandson, "But we promise that we'll all see her so soon."

"Good!" Beau exclaimed, "I'll miss my mama."

"Your mama will miss you too," Magnificence gave her son another kiss before addressing her parents, "I'll miss all of you, I promise I'll be okay though."

"We'll be waiting for you love," Her mother promised, "I can't wait to see you again."

The Callarosa family collided in one last hug before parting for what very well could be the last time. The last thing Magnificence heard before the Peacekeepers escorted her out of the building was the voice of her son, "Mama's going to do great things!"

**HESSON ADAIR SVÁROVSKÝ (18)  
DISTRICT ONE MALE**

Being surrounded by his family in the Justice Building was certainly uncomfortable for Hesson. They had been ignoring him even more than usual ever since Alaban was expelled from the Academy when the Trainers found the steroids in his bag.

"Even if you win, which I doubt you will, you're no longer our son," The words of Hesson's father only solidified the fact that he was making the right decision.

"I honestly have no words to describe how I feel right now," His mother had been upset ever since the expulsion, "You're so lucky we haven't completely destroyed your reputation, and the only reason for that is because it would destroy ours as well.

"Fuck you," Alaban was equally heated, "Fuck you straight to hell."

That was all for Hesson's parting from his family, disgustingly brief, even though Hesson was surprised they visited him at all. He didn't mind it though, he didn't want to see those poor excuses for people ever again.

When Alaban was expelled, Spessar and Andra tried to fight it, saying that their son was not an addict, at least Alaban wasn't an addict, but Hesson went the extra mile, saving a bit of the steroid fluid so that he could taint Alaban's breakfast the morning after he hid the drugs. Because of that, he took a drug test which came back positive, and that meant that there was no denying that he was an "addict" in the eyes of the Academy.

"You're lucky we aren't kicking you out," Hesson's parents screamed at him, saying that it was obvious he planted the drugs, especially when they found that money was missing from their safe, even if the District One boy never admitted to the wrongdoing.

It was whatever though, Hesson didn't need his parents, and they most certainly didn't need him. It would only be a matter of time before he returned to District One as the Victor of the 51st Hunger Games, and he'd never speak to them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, thank you so much for reading the first pair of intros for Domestic Tranquility! Woo hoo! This thing is actually happening now, and I am so fucking thrilled I get to be introducing everybody to this all star cast. I truly cannot emphasize enough how much I love these Tributes, and how excited I am that everybody is going to get to meet them. Seriously, I am waking up in the middle of the night with thoughts regarding how much I adore the cast of Domestic Tranquility. Anyways, thank you to dirtwolf for Magnificence and optimisms for Hesson. They are both incredible characters and I had so much fun writing about them.  
> Also um holy shit? Before I posted this chapter I checked to see that DT has over 50 reviews and I literally had not introduced a single Tribute. I don't know what to say besides thank you so much for this support. It means more to me than you'll ever know.  
> If you know me, you know that I do intros at an absurd pace, so I hope that you are all excited to meet Cyra and Ludo of District Two since that is going to happen before you even know it!Have the best day and stay safe,Linds


	6. Cyra and Ludovicus

**CHAPTER VI. CYRA AND LUDOVICUS**

_I could not hear what he proposed to them;  
But with them there he did not linger long,  
Ere each within in rivalry ran back._

**CYRA TERRANOVA (18)  
DISTRICT TWO FEMALE**

Cyra Terranova was no stranger to silent breakfasts with her family. In fact, the vast majority of the meals consumed within the walls of the Terranova family home went without a single word spoken, but Cyra really didn't mind; she didn't have much to say to them anyways.

"Are you nervous for today?" Just as she was finishing her scrambled eggs, her mother Aquilla tiptoed behind her.

"Not particularly," The District Two girl was far too tired to sleep, "Whatever happens, happens."

That answer wasn't good enough for her mother, "You should be; we both know who's going to be there today."

It was the day of the final tournament for all the trainees, the Volunteer hopefuls from District Two. The day in which they'd compete in duels (see: beat the shit out of one another for fun) to see who'd get the "distinct pleasure" of being selected to Volunteer for the 51st Annual Hunger Games. Cyra was uncertain whether or not she'd be able to make it through the brackets and to the top, only deemed the second strongest from Springridge Academy, but she had recently realized how little she cared.

_If I win, I guess it's meant to be then. But if not, I'll be fine; everything happens for a reason._

She spent the previous night calling on her communicuff until the crack of dawn with her best friend Ludo _(he's going to be there)._ It had been ages since they last saw each other, and Cyra was practically shaking with the excitement of the possibility of seeing him again. _Seeing him again is probably better than winning anyways._

Ludovicus Jornmark was practically guaranteed to be the selected male Volunteer; the boy quite literally had it all. His charisma and wicked determination made him suitable to go into the Games and probably win, as much as Aquila Terranova failed to see his excellence.

"Cyra," Her mother pestered him when she didn't respond to her, "The Sheng boy. He's going to be there today. Don't you have anything to say about that?"

The issue, the reason she had to see Ludo in secret if at all was kind of stupid in Cyra's opinion. There was some sort of elaborate family drama with their grandmothers dating back to the Dark Days that the District Two girl had heard a million times, had zoned out from hearing a million times. Whatever the full story was, Cyra was sure it was unreasonably petty, and no reason for her to hate Ludo like she was supposed to.

"I guess I'll have to win to prove we're better," She had gotten absurdly good at faking her confidence around her mother, just enough so that she didn't suspect anything, "Because we _are_ better."

"Indeed we are," Aquila snickered, a twisted look in her eyes, "Get in the Games and take him out, Cyra. End this for all of us."

Cyra couldn't fathom the thought of hurting Ludo, or anything slightly bad happening to him, especially when her mother would casually remark about how "tragic" it would be if "the Sheng boy ran into too many mutts," or was "mysteriously separated from the rest of the Career pack." Cyra knew what Aquila was capable of, the way she wouldn't hesitate to bribe the Gamemakers if it meant she would see Ludo dead. _Though I really doubt they're the sort to take bribes. They're rich enough already._

"You can't bribe the Gamemakers, mother," Cyra would always tense up when she had to explain this to her mother.

Aquila never got mad though, instead belittling her, talking about how Stevi Styx, the frontrunner at Springridge was far better than her.

Stevi was the sort who made Cyra wince when she was talked about. She was strong, that was no debate, but she was almost _too_ strong. Stevi didn't play fair, even in comparison to a place where playing fair was the way nobody played. She was the sort who wouldn't hesitate to take out Ludo in the arena just for the sake of ensuring that she had one less person in the way of her and victory. And Stevi wouldn't make Ludo's death quick; she was too merciless for that.

Cyra knew that if Stevi made it to the Games and not her, Aquila wouldn't hesitate to somehow fuck with Ludo before laughing at his corpse, and the thought was frightening, so therefore the District Two girl was indeed nervous, not only because Stevi wouldn't play fair in their duel, but also because if Stevi made it and not her, Ludo would be gone.

_I honestly have no way how she'd do it, but she will. The only way out is if I place first in the tournament._

She couldn't think of Ludo for a bit though; Cyra had to focus on winning. She kissed her mother and her father on the cheeks before walking to the gymnasium where everybody would gather for the final tournament. It was an extravagant ordeal, just as the previous tournaments were, so Cyra had gotten used to all the lights and cheering.

_They take this way too seriously in all honesty._

In the past 25 years or so, the Career scene in District Two had blown up, rather fitting considering the amount of Victors that they took home, the most of all the Districts by far. Earlier Careers were trained for sure, but _nothing_ compared to the program that Cyra was subjected to. She was just a toddler when she was enrolled in the Pre-Evaluative Care Center, and once she was seven she was chosen to attend Springridge. This was a big deal apparently since her cousins and siblings attended as well. Springridge Academy, as strict as it was, allowed Cyra to come into her own skin a bit though, as would have been the case for any of the "core-four" Academies, those who competed in the tournaments for selecting Volunteers.

Cyra tried not to stress though, as badly as she needed to win, she couldn't be tense if she wanted to do so. Unlike the other tournaments, the finale didn't have a "socialization period" where the trainees could get to know people from other academies, where Cyra met Ludo when she was fourteen or so. It was showtime from the moment the District Two girl stepped into the gymnasium, barely fifteen minutes allotted to her preparing herself to fight.

The first duel was easy at least, Cyra was up against Esme Argos from Copper Peaks Academy (the embarrassment of the core-four), and it went by fairly quickly. The District Two girl didn't put too much effort into slamming Esme to the ground and putting her into a chokehold; she had to save her strength for the eventual fight with Stevi. Esme was cocky too, thinking that Cyra was an easy opponent, and obviously being proven wrong within mere moments.

 _I wonder how Ludo's doing right now,_ Cyra couldn't help but think of her best friend and the impeccable showmanship he was probably showing a few rooms over. She tried to channel him as she continued to battle, even having a bit of fun with her opponents before defeating them without getting hurt in the slightest.

The District Two girl was unbelievably confident, almost too much since of course her final duel was with none other than Stevi Styx herself. Cyra wasn't surprised though, since she _was_ a force to be reckoned with afterall.

For the first time that day, Cyra Terranova let her nerves show, especially when Stevi cackled saying, "I can't believe I have such an easy final opponent."

Cyra wouldn't let her have the pleasure of getting under her skin, wasting no time before punching her square in the jaw, trying not to squirm as Stevi spit at her, one of her teeth flying from her mouth, "You think this is easy?" She channeled Ludo whenever it was time for her to combat the displeasure people felt against her.

Stevi fought back, punching Cyra in the stomach and laughing as she recoiled before the District Two girl took advantage of her brief moment of rest and kicking her right between her legs.

She fell to the ground instantly, grabbing her crotch in pain, before using her feet to kick at Cyra, her long legs making contact with her shoulders causing the District Two girl to fall to the ground as well.

Cyra wasn't going to give up so easily though. She swung her fist at Stevi's chest, her opponent screaming in agony, "Fuck you, Terranova."

The District two girl delivered a final blow to her nose, blood beginning to drip down before one of the referees called out "Duel over. Cyra Terranova, congratulations. You have been selected to represent District Two in the 51st Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Cyra didn't know what to say, the adrenaline rushing in her head before she got up off the ground and raised her fist in the air, "Thank you so much."

The District Two girl walked over to a showerroom where she cleansed herself of the blood and dirt she had gotten on herself during the duels; she cleansed herself of the impurities that came with hurting people so badly, even if they were fully intent on hurting her just as much, _Crazy how I'm all fucked up and I'm not even going to the Capitol until tomorrow._

She wasn't _really_ fucked up though, just minorly sore and that was a small price to pay considering the fact she had done exactly what she set out to do.

"Terranova," One of the Trainers banged on the door of the room, "Almost finished?"

"One second, sir," She splashed some water on her face before preparing to leave. Cyra knew what was going to happen next, she'd be led to a room where she would meet her District Partner, or at least find out just who exactly he was, _From here on out, it's no longer just me._

She didn't speak to the Trainer as she walked into the small room, sitting in a chair with a curtain in front of her. Cyra heard footsteps from the other side of the curtain, the steps of whoever her District Partner was.

Cyra closed her eyes as the Trainer drew back the curtain to reveal the mystery man, and she was the furthest thing from surprised when she opened her lids to see Ludovicus Jornmark and his cheeky smile, "It's you…"

**LUDOVICUS "LUDO" JORNMARK (18)  
DISTRICT TWO MALE**

Perhaps Ludo should have gotten some sleep on the eve of the final tournament, the event that would decide who would be the Volunteers for the 51st Annual Hunger Games, but sleep, especially in large quantities, was never something that came naturally to the District Two boy. It wasn't like he was sitting around in his bed doing jackshit all night though, the boy was far too much of a busy bee for that. Ludo had plans, extensive plans since the next night he actually would have to sleep, since _obviously_ he would be chosen to Volunteer and if the Reaping was the following day, he had to be well rested.

The night before the tournament was his oyster though; Ludo had somehow convinced his parents to allow him to go to a bar with Roscius Mills, his boss and also the coolest fucking person in the whole world.

"You'll sleep, right?" His mother Camila was the more reluctant parent when it came to Ludo going out at night, but he assured her that he would indeed sleep, and his father Ezekiel backed him up.

Roscius picked him up at his front door a bit before nine in the evening, smiling at his parents and saying, "I'll take good care of your boy."

They had no reason not to believe him; Roscius had always taken great care of the boy, made sure he was well fed and joyous, and Ludo's parents wanted nothing more than for their son to be happy.

"You nervous for tomorrow, big guy?" Roscius asked the burning question the moment the two of them sat down at their booth at "Claytons," one of the nicer dineries in Ludo's area.

He didn't want to admit that he was the furthest thing from nervous. Sure the tournament would have him face to face with some of the strongest kids from the Academies, but Ludo had consistently ranked at the top of his class at Shindy Gregory Academy; which he typically referred to as "Shindy's" or "SGA." (He sometimes joked that the acronym stood for "Shitty Gay Academy," though he didn't use the second word as an insult. The boys there were hot, and he appreciated it.)

If there was one thing Ludovicus Jornmark was nervous for, it was his friend, though Cyra Terranova was way more than just a friend; she was his soulmate. When they met a few years ago at the "socialization period" for the first tournament that they competed in, they hit it off instantaneously. It was if the two of them were born to be the best friends, their lives created for the sole purpose of intertwining. It was beautiful, the way they spent nearly every waking moment of their free time together, Cyra accompanying him to set, where Ludo worked as Roscius' stunt double in movies (the two were practically identical in appearance). Wherever the District Two boy was, Cyra was neither one step in front of him nor one step behind him; they always walked together.

They spent every moment together until they didn't.

It wasn't because a fight or any sort of drama happened, no they were thick as thieves and always had been. Well, _actually_ there _was_ a fight, but neither of them were involved, rather their grandmothers hated each other in the worst way possible during the Dark Days before the foundation of Panem. Lydia Sheng and Virta Ferncliffe hated each other just as much as Ludo and Cyra loved each other. His grandmother was involved in the medical industry, and Cyra's grandmother somehow ruined it during the war. His mother didn't like to elaborate on the details to him, since she was over the whole family feud, but her sisters Gaia and Vesta would always pester Ludo about the conflict, about Cyra.

"You know, Virta Ferncliffe has a granddaughter just your age," Ludo had to pretend to be unaware whenever his aunts spoke of Cyra, "I hear she goes to Springridge; would be a shame if you had to go in the arena with her."

"Not necessarily," Another aunt would chime in, "You could always take her out and end the feud once and for all."

"He doesn't need to do that," Camila was clearly exhausted whenever that conversation arose, "It's been two generations, let him be."

Still, Ludo and Cyra were afraid to see each other. Gaia and Vesta as well as Cyra's mother had a way of finding out everything, and it was too risky.

 _We'll see each other again,_ Ludo had to keep his head up, knowing he would one day see his best friend, his soulmate, even if it meant it was in the context of them being on borrowed time in the Capitol before the Games.

"I'm more nervous for Cyra," He finally answered Roscius' question, "And the thing is, I'm not too certain what the context is for these nerves."

"Oh?" His boss begged for an elaboration.

"It's just that, either way, the two of us are fucked," The District Two boy's tone suddenly ered on the more serious side, "If she wins tomorrow, we go into the Games together, but eventually one of us dies, or both of us dies."

"I see, I see," Roscius pulled his fingers through his long, jet black hair, "Didn't the two of you say that you'd die for one another?"

"That's a problem though," Ludo sighed, "Because if I would die for her and she would die for me, then we'd both be dead, and that isn't exactly optimal," He let out an awkward chuckle, "But then if she doesn't win tomorrow, and I go in alone, she said that her mom would do something, like bribe the Gamemakers or whatever, and ensure I get killed."

"So you're assuming that you're automatically winning tomorrow?" Roscius laughed, always stunned by Ludo's sheer confidence, "How would Cyra's mom even do that, anyways?"

"Who else would win tomorrow?" This was virtually the one thing that Ludo knew was certain, "And who the hell knows? Her mom's fucking horrifying!"

They didn't talk for a moment, Roscius uncertain of what he should be doing in the presence of the District Two boy's obvious distress. He wasn't like this often, if at all, usually hiding behind the mask of his absurd confidence levels, "What can I say to you that will help you?"

"I have no fucking clue," Ludo laid his head against the table, "This just, it sucks."

He tried to feel better by eating some good food at the restaurant, but not even fancy pasta could make him feel better; _nothing_ could make him feel better about the utter shithole that was Ludo and Cyra's families and how they were destined to fail.

"You mean to tell me that you, Ludovicus Jornmark, is actually scared of something?" Cyra teased him that night when he called her on his communicuff, "I mean I'm nervous, but _you_?"

"Of course I am," Ludo instantly felt relieved whenever he heard his companion's voice, "Whatever happens, we're screwed."

Cyra didn't have that much advice to give, her nerves mainly coming from the fact that she had no idea whether or not she was capable of beating Stevi Stix, a valid concern considering the girl had rocked her shit on several occasions, "And then I'm not even sure what will happen _if–_ "

"When," Ludo corrected her, " _When_ you beat her. Then we go to the Capitol together and I guess we play it by year?"

"That's stupid Ludo," Cyra chimed in, "One of us is going to die."

"Can we just pretend that isn't happening," He pleaded, knowing death was inevitable, "Just for one last night?"

"I guess so," Cyra sighed, also aware of how awful the situation was, "How was your time with Roscius?"

They spoke until the night was through, just like the old times, joking as if they didn't have to worry about what was eventually going to happen, until Cyra was called by her mother to eat her last meal before the tournament, "Hopefully I'll see you later today!"

"Hopefully!"

The tournament was just as easy as Ludo intimidated, the boy flaunting about the gymnasium like he was the king of the world (and he felt like it), making snide remarks as he successfully defeated his enemies, one after another, their bruised bodies dropping to the ground like flies. He didn't feel anything strong about the whole ordeal, he knew it had to be done, and that the people would eventually recover.

The District Two boy's only fight that was somewhat tumultuous was against Abel Shale from Springridge Academy, and he certainly wasn't as strong as Ludo, but his attitude made up for it tenfold.

Abel certainly liked to play rough, as evident when he grabbed Ludo's long hair to which he replied, "At least take me out to dinner first, jeez!"

 _Kinky bastard_ , He thought, reminiscing on his conversations with Cyra regarding how inherently homoerotic wrestling was.

He knocked Abel to the ground with a single punch before the Trainer who was serving as the referee for the fight, declared Ludo the designated Volunteer for the 51st Annual Hunger Games.

The District Two boy wasn't surprised; he knew that would be the case. What he _was_ interested in was finding out who his District Partner would be. It was a complete toss-up as to whether or not he would come face to face with Stevi or Cyra, and he obviously was of the mindset that he wanted it to be the latter.

Ludo didn't have much cleaning up to do, he hardly broke a sweat throughout the tournament, but he still spent quite some time in the showerroom since he was admittedly feeling the nerves regarding who his District Partner would be.

_I mean whatever happens, we're both fucked so I might as well get it over with._

Ludo tucked his hair behind his ears before he exited the room and went to sit behind the curtain, trying to peek through the crack to see who was on the other side.

A Trainer pulled on a string as the curtains flew to the sides of the room, revealing Cyra Terranova right in front of Ludo's eyes, "It's you…"

**CYRA TERRANOVA (18)  
DISTRICT TWO FEMALE**

Cyra certainly underestimated how tense it would be in the Justice Building with Cyra and Ludo's families so freakishly close to one another. There was but a thin wall in between the two groups, and Ludo's family could certainly hear everything that her's was saying.

_I just want to see him again._

"You're going to kill the Sheng boy, right Cyra," Her mother wasn't taking any bullshit that afternoon; she was mortified that her daughter even had to be in Ludo's presence.

"If I have to," Cyra spoke with a stutter, "Maybe he'll be nice?"

"Don't even joke about that," Her father Cassian was certainly the more passive parent, and that meant he just _really_ didn't want any drama, especially in what could be his final moments with his daughter.

"Whatever happens, it'll be fine," Her brother Icarus didn't really give a fuck about the drama all that much, "You'll do great Cyra."

"Thank you."

The tension continued at that awkward place throughout the remainder of the visit. Nobody spoke too loudly in fear that Ludo's family would hear them and get angry, and a fight was the last thing that either of them wanted surely, especially when they were so close from finally escaping all of the drama for at least a little while.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"Aquilia was sick of the silence, "Aren't you excited to finally end the feud? Cyra, it's all up to you."

"Not really," Cyra admitted, something she wished she hadn't done.

"Then I guess I'll have to end it myself."

**LUDOVICUS "LUDO" JORNMARK (18)  
DISTRICT TWO MALE**

If only Ludo's aunts hadn't insisted on accompanying him to the Justice Building. Everything would have gone so swimmingly, no drama at all would occur, but alas, Gaia and Vesta just _had_ to make an appearance.

The District Two boy tried to drown out their voices as they told him that he needed to kill Cyra if he wanted to "end the feud once and for all," but Ludo didn't respond, saying that he was "just nervous for the Games," when prompted.

_I just want to see her again._

He wasn't sure how much longer he would have to go without seeing Cyra but any amount was too much. It was just so _awkward_ , the way his mother would tell his aunts to be quiet and "focus on the positive," and the way his other siblings just stood there and did _nothing_.

Granted, "awkward" was way better than what happened once Ludo heard footsteps. He wished that it was Cyra who was approaching him, allowing him to finally be free, but alas it was her mother instead, "This is finally ending; the Games will prove the Ferncliffes superior."

"My nephew will kill your daughter; he won't hesitate." Ludo squirmed as Gaia screamed even louder than Cyra's mother, "You'll learn to regret what you did to our family, what you did to Lydia."

"You'll regret what you did to Auretta," Mrs. Terranova tried to get the last laugh before Peacekeepers dragged the families apart, Ludo being ushered down the stairs of the building where he saw Cyra, _finally._

"Well that was… uncomfortable," Ludo tried to make light of the negative situation.

Cyra didn't respond though; the shorter girl just ran over to Ludo, wrapping her arms around his waist, "It'll all be fine now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading the District Two Introductions! I hope you enjoyed Cyra from mykindleisawsome and Ludovicus from Mags2000.  
> I'd like to take this moment to announce that I will be doing another meme contest, so send me your best memes before the Reaping Recap, for the chance to win $75 in sponsor money for first place and $50 or $25 for second and third place respectively. I'm excited to see what everybody comes up with.  
> Next up is Lumi and Aux, but until then I wish everybody the best!


	7. Luminosity and Auxiliary

**CHAPTER VII. LUMINOSITY AND AUXILIARY**

_He stopped attentive, like a man who listens,  
Because the eye could not conduct him far  
Through the black air, and through the heavy fog._

**LUMINOSITY "LUMI" ABRIXUS (16)  
DISTRICT THREE FEMALE**

If only the television could shut off forever; Lumi was tired of flicking through the channels every morning to find a cartoon or movie she could watch, only to find every station broadcasting photos of her.

" _The most promising young inventor in District Three has been tarnished!"_

" _Is Luminosity Abrixus a charming intellect or a domestic terrorist?"_

" _District Twelve has suffered an immeasurable loss, all thanks to_ ** _this_** _teenager!"_

She has to turn it off, eating her cereal with only the audio of her teeth grinding the corn flakes in her ears. The sound (or rather lack of sound) was jarring, but Lumi's parents had learned to respect her need for quiet – _not hearing anything is better than hearing whatever it is they have to say about me._

"Lumi," The District Three girl's father Flo tried to get through to her on many a Saturday morning, "It's not your fault, okay?"

His words meant nothing to her and he knew it. That didn't prevent him from trying though; it was clear he longed for who his daughter was before the accident, "This is going to end soon Lumi. Soon everybody will forget."

 _How could they?_ She didn't expect the thousands of families that she destroyed to _ever_ get over what she had done. The fathers who went to work one morning to feed their already starving families –they never came back because of Lumi and her monstrosity, "They won't forget father. Stop acting like they will."

"She's not well, Flo," Her mother Brightness was always getting into her head, trying to figure out if there was something _wrong_ with her, "What are we going to do about it?"

"There's nothing you can do," Lumi sighed at her mother, "This isn't the fault of anybody but me. I'll own it."

"I told you not to encourage she starts selling the Lightbearer," Whenever Lumi left the table, Brightness would nudge Flo, "Where did we go wrong?"

"We didn't."

The District Three girl knew that her parents cared about her and that they only wanted the best for her, but it was _overwhelming_ how eager they were to take responsibility for her mistakes.

_This isn't anybody's fault but my own._

Lumi spent the majority of her time alone in her room, since it wasn't like anybody wanted to talk to her _(Why would they?)_ and she certainly didn't want to talk to them (or anybody). Her room was plain, the robotics posters stripped from the walls in fits of rage, her clothes spread out on the floor (there wasn't a point in putting them away); her bed was seldom made since it was too much of a hassle to get all the pillows on top of the mattress if Lumi was just going to lay around there anyways. She barely touched the desk in the corner of the room, since whenever she looked at it she'd see the prototype of the Lightbearer.

_It could've been so great. I could've been so great._

She never really intended for the Lightbearer to become the phenomenon that it did. In fact, the sole reason Lumi invented the machine was so that she could win a robotics competition and attend the prestigious Huxley Vaughn Institute of Technology on a scholarship. The District Three girl still remembered how nervous she was on the day of the competition when she presented her creation to Archie Vaughn, the son of the great inventor, the man behind the tracking devices Tributes wore in the arena for the Hunger Games. He would decide if she was eventually worthy of attending HuxTech (that's what the "cool kids" referred to it as, not that Lumi considered herself a cool kid).

"There's no reason why you wouldn't win," Flo patted her on the back before she went out to present, "You're the best one here."

He was her biggest cheerleader yet she still let him down _(even if he doesn't think it)_.

Lumi _did_ have her army of previous inventions to back her up though, to validate why she was qualified to enter this contest. Vroomerz the small car, Carla the android cat that she kept as a pet since she was allergic to real ones, Helly Belly, the device that allowed her to get a drink from the kitchen without leaving her room. None were as great as the Lightbearer though.

She'd spent some time developing the concept after she heard on the news that the miners in District Twelve were running into issues since it was difficult for them to see due to the fact the lights in their helmets often ran out of battery. Lumi wanted to help them (it was nice when she could help other people instead of helping the monster she thought herself to be). The Lightbearer was shaped like a spider, and they were all extremely compact, making it easy for them to move around the cave systems with ease. They didn't need a light since their bodies were crystal cylinders filled with a bio-luminescent liquid that Lumi felt hours fromulating, and a control panel wasn't necessary either since there were sensors that would detect surroundings and behave accordingly.

They were also built to protect. The sensors could determine when there was a dangerous rock or animal that could attack the miners, and it would shoot off a missile to destroy the potential threat leaving the workers unschathed.

_It could've been so great. I could've been so great._

Lumi won the competition by a landslide, a giant check in her hand and her admission to HuxTech secured once she turned eighteen. The District Three girl got to meet with Huxley Vaughn himself even, and that elderly man opened many doors for her.

"You're the brightest girl of your age that I've seen in a long while," Lumi still remembered how king he was when she visited his mansion for dinner, "The Lightbearer is going to be a hit!"

"A hit?" She thought the whole purpose of the contest was just to make one of the invention, and that it was over now.

"Hewlett Turing wants to manufacture Lightbearers and actually get them into the mines in Twelve," Huxley spoke of the famous Capitolite investor, "He wants to get them mass produced."

Who would Lumi be if she said no to the offer? She had a patent on the idea as a result of winning the contest, and that meant she'd get some of the earnings and her family would be financially stable for a long, long, time, "Let's do it!"

_It could've been so great. I could've been so great._

Everybody knew the name Luminosity Abrixus, the smartest girl from District Three since Liana Taylor. And it was just the beginning; Lumi knew that this invention would only lead to propel the next one, and then the one after that and so on and so forth. She was in every magazine being featured as one of the most brilliant people in her generation. Even if she didn't have friends, Lumi was glad she had her little invention that would allow her to succeed.

It ended as soon as it began.

Lumi wanted to forget the moment she woke up, turned on the television and saw that the missile system in the Lightbearers, _her_ Lightbearers, had malfunctioned and caused an explosion in the biggest mine system in Twelve.

_1,000 dead._

Lumi didn't want to look at the screen as more and more details of the incident came through.

_2,000 dead._

The reporters spoke about how it was beginning to be one of the most catastrophic events in Panem history.

_3,000 dead._

Lumi had been nervous that they were making Lightbearers too quickly and that the production value had been lacking as a result.

_4,000 dead._

As she saw footage, Lumi knew exactly what was going wrong; the tracking systems were wired the wrong way leading to an increased sensor range.

_5,000 dead._

She watched in fear as the miners picked up the robots to examine their flaws as they exploded in their hands.

_6,000 dead._

The District Three girl let out a blood curdling scream as her life shattered before her eyes in high-definition.

_6,081 dead. Luminosity Abrixus is the culprit._

Nobody ever outright said that Lumi was the cause for all the bloodshed, in fact, Hewlett took accountability for the malfunctioning errors, even when it was revealed that the mining system had been completely annihilated.

_It could've been so great. I could've been so great._

Riots broke out in the street; the citizens of Twelve furious that the Capitol had (that Lumi had) created something with the sole purpose of ripping them apart from their families. Lumi didn't want to destroy though, all she wanted to do was create.

"I can't believe it's been over a year now and we're still getting these letters," Lumi's mother took great care in reporting the death threats that the family received multiple times every week. The rumor that what had happened in Twelve was Lumi's fault spread around Panem like a wildfire, eventually reaching District Three. While at first Lumi knew that what happened was indeed _not_ her fault, seeing all the horrible words spray painted on the outside of her house, and reading all the horrible threats against her and her family caused her to believe that she truly was the great evil she had been trying so hard not to think she was.

There was nothing she could do though. The entire nation hated her, labeling her as a terrorist, somebody who only wanted destruction. Her acceptance to HuxTech was revoked, and she had nothing to look forward to.

_They all want me dead._

She could never wash the blood off her hands, always reminded that something _she_ created had killed thousands.

_It could've been so great. I could've been so great._

Lumi just wanted to help Panem, to make the nation as great as it could possibly be. She was no politician but she could help with her creations which was what mattered. She couldn't though, everybody wanted to see her suffer even if she was at the nation's utter mercy.

"Mother, father," Lumi bit her lip as she addressed her parents one late June morning, "I'm going to Volunteer for the 51st Hunger Games."

_They all want me dead; I'll give them what they want._

**AUXILIARY "AUX" NYQUIST (17)  
DISTRICT THREE MALE**

At least the plants in Aux's greenhouse appreciated his music. The District Three boy would play the orange melodies of his electric guitar at the blossoming flowers and vines, the high pitched notes spiraling into a fluorescent rainbow before twinkling down on the leaves and shattering into fragments of individual color, as vibrant as they were together, now in a beautiful isolation.

"You've grown beautifully," He addressed the picturesque sunflowers that grew along the back wall. While the plants didn't give Aux feedback on his music (which made sense since they were plants), he decided that they enjoyed it since they had been growing faster than ever, "I'm proud of you."

Oftentimes the plants were Auxiliary's only friends (or at least the majority), but he didn't mind. They were quiet and he admired them for that. He wasn't the biggest fan (or even a fan at all) of noise that came from things besides himself and his music, though the turquoise ripples that radiated from the leaves when the District Three boy opened the door to the greenhouse, allowing a gust of wind to clash against the plants was occasionally enjoyable.

_But, I err.. I suppose that's what wind is supposed to do. Make noise, create growth._

He'd often get lost in the music that he produced in his greenhouse symphony, the purple snapping against the skin of his drums when he sat down to play a song for his plants and for himself. Aux appreciated how he _and_ the plants all enjoyed the music equally.

Sometimes the vigor he struck the drums with would cause red to radiate small breezes that would shake the plants as though they were dancing to his music, "I'm glad you're having a good time out there."

The private concerts were interrupted by Aux's mother Dessa's blackened screams, "Not that!"

The District Three boy knew that she didn't mind the volume of the noise but rather what it was, metallic rock, piercing blue triangles that formed missiles in her ears or so it seemed, her canals practically bleeding as he continued to amplify his anguish against the drums.

He'd been musically gifted his whole life, a myriad of instruments always at his disposal to take splendor against and bring pleasure to himself and the plants. Dessa recognized that about him, the somewhat well known scientist always observant to development of talent or of anything. It was no secret that Aux was an accidental pregnancy and he had grown up to be a bargaining tool for Dessa's profit. His father Timbre was too much of a beta to protest against her.

"What should I play then?" Aux had developed a lime green sarcastic undertone whenever he spoke to his mother.

"You know what I want you to play," Her voice was distasteful and grey, "The sonata?"

Dessa only allowed Aux to play music to the extent that he did since she took advantage of his gift far too much, only she couldn't even allow him to play the music he enjoyed. She'd always make him take out his violin Yami (his favorite instrument, now used for displeasure) and play the classical tunes she described as "euphoria for the Capitol." She wanted him to be a sellout and somehow earn her money. The District Three boy refused to be complicit.

_She acts like the villain in an overdone rock movie… can't she just pick something else to bother me about?_

If Aux was anything, he was self aware of the stereotype that was his situation with his mother, but that didn't necessarily mean he enjoyed it, "Yes, mother."

He gripped Yami, her mirrored plating allowing Aux to peak at his green eyes in the reflection of the instrument. There were bags under his eyes, _must be playing too much and not sleeping._ The District Three boy wasn't the biggest fan of sleep, since everything was just so sickinengly quiet. He plucked the strings of the violin's neck as he placed her under his chin and graced his bow across the bridge, disappointed when the classical music only produced brown specks that disappeared against the walls. Not even the plants were dancing, and Dessa certainly wasn't since all she cared about was the fact that he was doing as she commanded.

"Thank you, Auxiliary," She was astute when he finished the (miserable) piece. She had gotten what she wanted, and that was the only way things operated in the Nyquist home.

School was a nice break from the tense energy at home at least. While he was by no means "popular," his few friends kept him more than properly entertained. Too many people would make everything too complicated, _simple is always better._

"She needs to fucking chill," His best friend Codek was the son of his first music teacher and his closest confidant. He could always be trusted to hear Aux's complaints about his mother, even if he could be unnecessarily vulgar at times, "No offense but she needs to change her underwear because clearly her current pair is twisted."

"I guess," The District Three boy shuddered whenever Codek delivered his bright red jokes that left him awkward and embarrassed, "She's my mom though, and I have to love her, yanno? At least she doesn't hit me."

"Maybe not physically," Codek laughed in pink, brushing his golden brown hand against Aux's shoulder, "But mentally, she's definitely hit you hard."

"I guess you're right," Aux let out a musty yellow sigh, steaming into nothingness nearly instantaneously, "You can be real smart sometimes."

_Though I really don't mind when he's a dumbass. Makes me feel more normal._

"Thanks?"

They didn't speak much more until they finally arrived at music class, their middle period during school that took place in a large auditorium, filled to the brim with various different instruments that were practically begging to be played. Aux typically brought Yami with him to school, keeping her in a checkerboard case that matched the pattern of the tight jeans that he was wearing. The teacher wasn't Codek's father, since he now taught private lessons, but it was instead Mrs. Bex, a middle aged woman with a shaved head and a giant smile. While she looked as dramatic as a Capitolite, she still looked fucking epic. Aux wished that he could dress as well as she could with her dramatic stripes and whatnot.

Aux's music classmates were much like him, outcasts who couldn't quite socialize with one another either. The majority of the kids at Packard High (named after one of the old Victors of the Hunger Games who turned out to be a pedophile –they should really change the name) were in polite terms, nerds. They were all out and proud about the fact that they were "amazing" at engineering and science and math and everything that Aux couldn't wrap his head around.

 _Makes me feel like a fucking moron and I am_ ** _not_** _a fucking moron._

Surely Aux could have been better at all the academic nonsense that he was supposed to excel at if he actually studied and did his homework instead of playing his instruments, but he preferred to blame his birth as the cause for his ineptitude. The District Three boy was a cesarean section since he couldn't be delivered naturally. His parents had told him the same story time and time again about how his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck which is why his mother had to be cut open. His oxygen was cut off so he could barely breathe for a while but eventually he was able to and then they named him Auxiliary because it's a type of cord.

_And I was born with a cord around my neck. It cut off my Oxygen. Aux. Fucking hilarious, I know._

The doctors didn't know if Aux would be able to talk because apparently he had some brain damage as a result of the whole incident, and it was somewhat of a given that it would be hard for him to pay attention to lessons at school as well, but Aux sure as hell could speak. His brain worked differently though; whenever he heard anything the sounds created beautiful colors that radiated in his eyes like portraits in a museum. It took the District Three boy quite some time to realize that not everybody saw colors like he did.

Unfortunately, the kids in his music class were a pain, especially this one girl Tirna, her hair a bright red, the piercing sound of her voice even brighter and more obnoxious. She thought that she could sing and while in theory, _everyone_ can sing, there sure as hell is a fine line between singing and singing well. Tirna often danced along it, the wrinkles of her vibrato being the same color as blood _. Not at all a coincidence._

They used to be friends, but she got tired of Aux's musical jargon, the way that all he could speak about was anger and music, and she dropped him. He was used to it though; everybody always leaves eventually. She was still better than Lumiere at least. He was blonde, blue-eyed, and wickedly handsome. He was a total brute, never a nice word coming out of his mouth unless he was apologizing to Aux for the teasing, saying he was secretly in love with him.

_Childish stereotype. I won't allow it._

The District Three boy was talented at seeing through the bullshit of others and that was what allowed him to lure Lumiere into his greenhouse so he could bang against the blood with a cascading sunset of sound until he was screaming in agony due to the piercing nature of Aux's music. It was what the bastard deserved.

Aux tried to be content though for the most part. He had music, and that would always be the greatest gift imaginable, a gift that nothing could ever be taken away from him. Even if his mother was trying to take his love of rock and shove it in the garbage bin, and even if he couldn't function whenever he had to do anything at school that didn't involve music, Aux tried to be fine. When he counted his blessings they didn't fit on his fingers, and that was more than enough.

**LUMINOSITY "LUMI" ABRIXUS (16)  
DISTRICT THREE FEMALE**

When Lumi met up with her parents in the justice building so that they could say their goodbyes to her before she went to the Capitol, they were mortified.

"Luminosity," It was apparent that her mother was upset with her since she addressed her by her full name, "What the hell was that?"

She was referring to the moment where the escort read the name of some random child off a paper, Lumi instantly raising off the ground, her hand in the air "I-I Volunteer."

Saying the words aloud in the moment were _way_ more difficult that Lumi anticipated, but she persisted nonetheless. She gave her parents the warning that she would be Volunteering, and they were devastated, even if she gave them a week's notice.

They tried to punish her, not allowing her to leave the house, but that didn't quite work since the District Three girl never left anyway. _I guess it's the thought that counts_ , though she really couldn't understand why they were upset, "I told you that this would be happening."

"It's different when it actually does happen," Her father made a point that she couldn't disagree with.

No parent wanted to hear that their daughter was so miserable and that she felt that the world was so against her that she willingly thrusted herself in a death match, so in hindsight perhaps Lumi should have expected their disturbing reaction to her announcement.

"Can we do anything?" Brightness tried to bargain with one of the Peacekeepers in hopes that her daughter wouldn't go to the Capitol afterall.

"She Volunteered," His voice was stagnant and toneless, "I'm sorry you don't like it, but she brought it on to herself."

"You hear that?" She gestured to the Peacekeeper, "You brought this onto yourself, Luminosity."

"I know, I know," When Lumi hugged her mother there wasn't a single tear in her eye, "This is what I want, and I hope you can't afford me."

"I don't understa–" Her father began to speak

"You never will," The District Three girl hugged him as well, "I'm going to miss you both so much."

"We'll miss you too," There was a tear in Flo's eye, "Our brightest light."

**AUXILIARY "AUX" NYQUIST (17)  
DISTRICT THREE MALE**

The voice of the escort for District Three was a disturbingly harsh shade of orange, the same shade as the fake hair that she wore atop her head and the dress she wore on her body. It was hideous, much like the aura she exuded, and the most jarring thing of all was when she read the Auxiliary's name from the slip of paper in her hand, saying that he would be the male Tribute for District Three in the 51st Hunger Games.

_Saying that I'm going to die._

Aux rarely cried (if ever), but it was the first thing that he did when he saw Codek's bright face in the Justice Building, "I'm going to miss you, dude."

It was the most sincere the District Three boy had ever seen him, "I'll miss you too, brother."

He clutched his necklace which contained Yami's tuning pegs, "Will you take care of her? Play her well so she doesn't get rusty?"

"I'll try," Codek gave him a warm hug, parting as Aux's parents entered the room.

"I'm not going to lie," Dessa appeared weak, something Aux was unfamiliar with, "I'm really worried for you."

"I'm worried too," The District Three boy hugged his mother, "I don't want to die."

"I don't want you to die either," As she squeezed him, he realized that this was the first time they'd ever hugged in who knows how long, "You're a great son."

"He is," Aux's father patted him on the back, "The best son I could ever ask for."

They sure as hell weren't the best parents that Aux could ever ask for, but they were all that he had, not that he could do anything about it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the District Three introductions! I hope you enjoyed Lumi (courtesy of my husband LordShiro) and Aux (courtesy of DracarysWolf). That's all I have to say so have a nice day!


	8. Meridian and Saia

**CHAPTER VIII. MERIDIAN AND SAIA**

_This being finished, all the dusk champaign  
Trembled so violently, that of that terror  
The recollection bathes me still with sweat._

**MERIDIAN MORELLO (18)  
DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE**

They are broken by the night; Meridian and Mads _(her Mads)_ spent every night together (and alone) in the District Four Training Center dimly lit by the picturesque candles that line the corners of the room, burning brightly just for them.

"Shall we dance," Mads removed the small knife from Meridian's hand, dropping it to the ground, "There's only a few more days until you go."

"We can," The District Four girl lined up her right hand with her girlfriend's admiring how her fingers are just _barely_ longer, "Yeah, we can," she let their fingers intertwine.

Mads placed her left arm around Meridian's waist, pulling her nimble body closer to her _(I'm so close to her, so perfectly close)_ , whispering in her ear "I don't want you to leave, Mir."

The District Four girl knew she wouldn't be gone for long but she would miss her girlfriend just as much if not more, "I'll be back; you know I'll be back."

"If anybody is capable of coming back it's you," Mads lips nearly touched hers as she breathed a light breath into her mouth, "You're the only one who can do it, my love."

Meridian grabbed the back of her girlfriend's head with her hand, allowing their lips to fully collide, her tongue lightly brushing against the roof of Mads' mouth, tickling the back of her teeth as their love intensified, "Thank you for always believing."

The days were hard for Mir, always were, always had been, but the nights with Madeyln, _Mads_ , almost if not definitely made every act of hatred forced against her feel as though it didn't matter at all.

Like it didn't hurt at all, when she was sparring with Virtus and the boy hit her in the head with his brass knuckles, not a sense of remorse as she fell to the ground and began to bleed. He was breaking the rules, playing too hard, and he didn't give a shit about it.

_Typical Career boys and their egos. Can't s-say I'm the biggest fan of them (or a fan at all)._

She couldn't fix herself though, the Training Center told her that she had to remain there until "the day was done," if she wanted to remain eligible for Volunteering, but Mir knew that she had to remain there, if she wanted her mother to be happy.

It was her mother who sent her to the Training Center afterall, and even though she was a retired Trainer herself, she spent _lots_ of money just to ensure her daughter could be there from the youngest age possible _(which is twelve because this place is severely understaffed and underfunded)_ , and Meridian couldn't let her down now.

(Especially since she received a call from her father that said that her mother had been in bed all day ever since she returned from her "girls trip" to the coast with her friends, _where she was probably high off her ass_ , and of _course_ Mir had to be the one to take care of her because it wasn't like her brothers were going to do anything about it.)

She was indeed distracted that day since she was so _fucking_ worried that her mother was going to die from all the dust (or whatever else it was) she consumed on her trip, but she couldn't be. Meridian had to pretend that everything was fine, that she was still the queen bee of the Training Center she had previously made herself out to be, standing up tall, _masquerading_ ; she had to act like she owned the place, even if the place owned _her_.

"Of course I believe in you," Mads ran her hands (or rather tried to) through Mir's short curly hair, kissing her chin, "Why wouldn't I?"

 _(Why did she? I'm a fucking idiot, a numskull; why should_ ** _she_** _believe in me if I can barely believe in myself. Why should Madelyn Monsentarro love this human disaster)_

"I'm stupid," Mir admitted, her kissing ceasing; the only contact she now had with Mads was her hand being held ever so lightly, "You know I'm stupid."

"I know it's a facade," Mads insisted, squeezing Meridian harder, "You told me it was a facade."

And she was right. Ever since the accident with Virtus, Meridian's brain had refused to function the way it had done so previously. It was hard for her to speak at first, much less speak in coherent sentences without stuttering. Luckily Mads found the second part cute, even if Mir found it pain-inducing.

_Guess that's what I fucking get –ironic that I was in the hospital longer than mom._

She had never and would never feel so inadequate as she did that one day when she finally came home from the hospital, her head still wrapped in a bandage and her mind still a fucking nightmare. Her brothers' taking on her household duties only made the District Four girl more aware that she was so utterly incomptenant.

_Perhaps if Virtus actually apologized this shit, I'd actually begin to heal or s-something._

The boy didn't; in fact, he doubled down, hurting Mir mentally even more than he had hurt her physically. The Training Center barely cared; they had their human weapon, and that was all that mattered to them.

_Brainless.  
Witless.  
Laughable._

The words of Virtus and his minions were seemingly embedded in Meridian's brain for good. The way they could so easily exploit and abuse everything about her, every weakness, every flaw she didn't even know she had. She couldn't quite tell if what she felt was embarrassment or shame or a mix of both.

_I'm a Career; I'm not supposed to have a disability or any slight flaw of that sort. I'm supposed to be perfect. I have no other choice_ **_but_ ** _being perfect._

"I told you, that's true," Meridian wanted nothing more than to kiss her girlfriend again; she didn't want to talk about her feelings this close to Reaping day. She knew she had to suck it up if she wanted any chance of surviving, "What if… it isn't?"

"You're brilliant Mir," Mads brushed her thumb against her cheek, "You're going to win the Hunger Games because you're so utterly brilliant. It is amazing just how brilliant you are."

Meridian couldn't help but feel as though Mads was lying, even if she wasn't.

_How the hell could I even be considered brilliant?_

As Virtus' teasing reached its tipping point, Mir reached hers. She was so fucking _done_ with being called an idiot, a failure, a loser. _Brainless_.

_If they want stupid, I'll show them stupid._

She had nothing to lose besides Mads, and Mads wasn't about to get lost, so she had no other choice but to feed into everybody else in the Training Center's vision of her. The District Four girl didn't have anything to lose since her reputation fell harder than she did when Virtus hit her skull. She had everything to gain.

Mir played the part of the idiotic loser and she played it so damn well, constantly missing when she threw knives at the wall (on purpose), and pretending she had forgotten all her knowledge on plants an anything related to survival. She pretended she had no need to survive during the day.

Night was a different story though. There was a door in the back of the Training Center that could be opened without a key, and Meridian exploited the fact that nobody knew about it besides her. Where she previously failed she learned to exceed, all lit by the candles that Mads would set around the Training Center, blowing them out and taking them home at the end of the day. She was Mir's biggest cheerleader. She was Mir's _only_ cheerleader. And that meant that Mir only needed one cheerleader. Mads was all that she needed and all that she would need for the rest of her life.

And the darkness had its advantages as well; Meridian could throw her knives in the dark with perfect accuracy, and it was easy for her to read books on plants and surviving when she didn't have anybody to distract her. The District Four girl was learning to succeed, the love of her life beside her, as people continued to think that she was an utter failure.

She didn't mind letting them either. Meridian knew that she was capable, that she was a fighter, and that she wouldn't dare give up.

" _I bet Meridian is going to Volunteer –she's idiotic enough to."_

Even though he wasn't Volunteering, Virtus' bullying was consistent as he still roamed the Training Center like he was a washed up celebrity that had peaked too young (which he was). He acted like he was above Mir because he was "too cool" to Volunteer or something, even though he had quite literally been sent to the Training Center so that he could train to Volunteer. He just was the sort of person who would always go above and beyond to put himself atop the highest possible pedestal and it was so deeply annoying. Mir couldn't bear it.

 _I'd be idiotic_ ** _not_** _to Volunteer._

People didn't know how capable she was, how she had a wide variety of skills that only she knew about, and only she would know about them for the rest of her days –until she hit the Capitol.

Everybody thought it was a joke when Mir was chosen as the designated Volunteer for the 51st Annual Hunger Games, and she let them laugh. She knew she had nailed her final evaluation, and that everybody who watched it was completely blown away, completely in shock that this "idiot" actually had talent.

Meridian liked the positive attention even if it quickly grew negative after the other kids made fun of her and the rest of the Academy for allowing her to Volunteer. The Trainers stood up for her though, they made her feel like she was worthy.

"W-what if I never come home to you though?" Mir didn't want to leave Madelyn's side, even though she knew it had to be done, "You know I'm _Mads_ ly in love with you."

"And I love you too," Her girlfriend kissed her once again, chuckling at the joke Mir had made way too many times. "I know damn well that you're going to prove everybody so wrong , baby; I'm excited for you to show Panem who you really are. I'm excited for everybody to meet the girl who I fell in love with."

"I'll never love them more than I love you," Mads probably wasn't worried about that, but Meridian promised so anyways, "I'll never love _anybody_ more than I love you."

They kissed once more, letting it linger a little bit longer as Meridian lost herself in Mads' body yet again.

_I'll show them all just what I can do._

**SAIA ANAKLUSMOS (18)  
DISTRICT FOUR MALE**

Saia Anaklusmos had always been a fan of the simpler things in life: walking down the streets of his somewhat nice neighborhood with his mother, safely distant from the beaches of District Four, cooking fresh food for his family for dinner every night, doing random mathematical equations for fun, and best of all… Saia Anaklusmos absolutely loved taking baths. Ever since the District Four boy was younger, he would spend hours upon hours in the soaking hot water in his bathroom, letting his skin nearly burn as he let the layer of steam that radiated from the tub enter his pores, pouring fragrant soaps that smelled like cherries and lavender all over his body for what seemed like hours at a time. Saia could sit in the tub for what seemed like hours at a time until his dog Seesee (a present for his fourth birthday) tried to get in the water with him and it was only then that he would remove himself and dry his body in the softest of towels before going to bed.

It had been like this for years, almost to the point where it was embarrassing just how long the District Four boy spent cleaning himself, his mom knocking on the door repeatedly telling him to get out of the tub since she too needed to bathe, but Saia would always persist and continue his bath until he was finished with it in accordance to his ridiculously high standards. He got sick of the restrictions though, so he decided he would simply take matters into his own hands and frequent the local bathhouses that he happened to live around the corner from.

_I have to say… this is the height of luxury._

Saia spent late hours at the bathhouse, a private room just for him so that he could let the water boil his skin while he simmered in his own thoughts. Stress was no longer a thing for the District Four boy, since he had his prolonged baths without interruption, and that meant he could finally decompress without worrying that he would eventually be disturbed.

"Saia!" One morning he heard a familiar voice pounding on the doors of his bathhouse as he woke up and realized he had once again fallen asleep in the bathhouse, "For the love of Panem, please tell me you're in there."

The water was still warm, probably why Saia was able to sleep in it so easily. He was yet to find the line between relaxed enough that he could decompress, and too relaxed that he fell asleep and risked drowning (which wouldn't really be fun for him –or anybody for that matter).

"Mama?" The District Four boy was only a smidge embarrassed that he still referred to his mother that way as he exited the tub, hugging himself in a towel before putting on his obnoxiously bright blue sweatpants and somewhat wrinkly white t-shirt from the night before and opening the door to see her standing there with her arms crossed, "I-I'm sorry."

"You're ridiculous; that's what you are." Mrs. Anaklusmos hugged her son, standing on her tippy toes so that she could reach his face and pinch his cheeks, "Do you know what today is?"

Saia looked down at his wrist as though he was wearing a watch even though he wasn't since he left it at home, not wanting it to get damaged while he was bathing, "It's a hair past a freckle."

"Saia…" She laughed somewhat awkwardly at his joke, "I asked what day it is. You gave me the time."

"Oh!" The District Four boy burst into an animated panic, his eyes popping out of his skull in exclamation before he sighed, "Well I don't know that either…"

He could tell his mother was disappointed in him, not from a serious perspective but rather she was scared that he was growing up in a fashion that seemed so quick yet he still had the same cluelessness that he developed as a toddler, "It's Reaping Day!"

_Right! That! That's umm… why I wanted to take a bath last night. Prepare for today._

"Holy smokes you're right!" Saia jumped, fanning his face since the embarrassment of him not knowing had him blushing, "I knew that, I just… forgot."

"Well you remember now and that's all that matters."

Perhaps the thing that Saia loved most about his mother was that she always seemed to be understanding of him, even through his imperfections which he pretended he wasn't aware of. His sisters Muna and Teisa were way _way_ older than he was, and even more different, probably because he was pretty certain that he was an accidental pregnancy and his parents raised him in such a way that he was basically treated like a baby for his entire life. Even now, Reyna Anaklusmos was the textbook definition of patience, always making sure her son was happy as a clam (though Saia was unsure if clams were capable of being happy), well adjusted to his surroundings, and getting the best out of everything life had to offer.

Saia wanted to be in the Hunger Games, or at least that was what he said when he turned twelve years old and his parents asked him if he wanted anything special for his birthday in December.

"I want to go to the Training Center," He exclaimed proudly with his hands on his hips, "I want to go there and get strong and be in the Hunger Games and win!"

The District Four boy got everything he wanted and therefore was sent to the Training Center once the winter was through. His parents thought it would be good for his confidence, and Saia personally just wanted to grow strong for his own benefit in that he really wanted to be a handsome man, and training for the Games would allow him to do so.

He was actually quite a bit surprised when he got chosen as the Designated Volunteer. All the boys were so strong, way stronger than Saia or so he thought, but perhaps his intellectual knowledge of plants and poison and setting shit on fire combined with his incredible pain tolerance (thanks to all the baths) was what pushed him over the edge, or maybe the Training Center had exhausted their kids that were actually talented since they had to send four kids for the 50th Games and Four's Training Center really wasn't all that esteemed, but regardless Saia was excited that he had been chosen out of all the other boys to represent his home.

_If… they believe in me, it means I have a chance of winning… right?_

Saia was in all honesty thrilled for the Reaping. He had been practicing in the mirror for days the way he would proclaim that he was Volunteering. He was between a loud serious tone that almost sounded like a battle cry, and a more soft tone, as though the District Four boy was reserved, patient, expecting this. He didn't want to sound too much like the stereotypical manic Career boy, but he didn't want to sound over prepared either.

"Mama, can I practice my Volunteering for you?" He asked her after he put on the blue jeans and pressed shirt that she had picked out for him to wear at the reaping since he wasn't that great at picking out his own clothes, "I still really don't know how I want to say it."

"If you want," Reyna sighed, clearly a bit nervous that she could be seeing her son for the last time that day.

"I can either be enthusiastic and go like this… I Volunteer!" Saia exclaimed, one hand in the air and his other on his chest before shifting his body into a neutral, more composed position, "Or I could say it like… I Volunteer? Give a more mysterious impression. People will think something is interesting about me."

"Everything about you is interesting, Saia," She was always the most kind person to him, "But if you want my advice, I say that you go with the first option since it makes you seem more motivated and it will be easier for the Escort to hear you."

The District Four boy paid attention to his mother's wisdom as he skipped on over to the town square and stood in line awaiting when he would be allowed into the Reaping area. It was obvious he was nervous, his body shaking everywhere, his fingers twiddling with each other, but Saia was determined to not let it show, making sure to take deep breaths every once in a while.

"Saia A-Anaklusmos," He gulped when he told the Peacekeeper at the front of the line his name, "Hope you are having a great day, sir."

He tended to speak in a lower voice when he was addressing somebody who he deemed superior to him. The Peacekeeper didn't respond to Saia, instead pricking his finger which caused him to flinch and then apologize for flinching, "Sorry, sir."

He once again didn't reply so Saia simply went over to the area where he was supposed to be sitting and waited for the ceremony to start. He was still nervous that it wouldn't work out in some way or form so he had to remind himself that it would all be okay and there was no reason for it to not work.

_This is going to be okay! I Volunteer! I Volunteer! See, this is so easy._

He didn't pay all that much attention when the blue-haired escort pulled a random name for the female Tribute before Meridian Morello volunteered, but he certainly was excited once she put her hand in the bowl for the male Tribute and Saia prepared to assert his dominance and spring to his feet. She pulled out a slip of paper and then, "Saia Anaklusmos."

He was confused.

_That's… my name…_

Saia ran up the stairs anyways, a spring in his step as he proudly stood before the escort once again spoke, "Any Volunteers?"

She was probably just as confused as Saia was. This was supposed to be his moment, the one where he finally proved to everybody that he was just as worth it as they were. This was supposed to be the time where Saia Anaklusmos could scream as loud as he could without a smidgen of embarrassment.

So that's what he did. Saia screamed anyways.

"I Volunteer as Tribute!"

**MERIDIAN MORELLO (18)  
DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE**

It wasn't all that exciting in the Justice Building as Meridian said goodbye to her family. The Morello family, her mother Yelvana and her brothers Marias and Oriao had already bid adieu to her in the morning before she left for the Reapings, so they didn't have much to say in this second period of saying farewell to the District Four girl for what possibly could be forever.

"Make us proud, Meridian," Her mother already was a woman of few words, and she said even less in this instance. She was certainly hungover since Mir found her in the bathroom the previous night with a bottle of champagne, guzzling down the liquor.

"I… didn't really intend on _not_ making you proud," Meridian was stagnant, equally uncomfortable, "I will s-see… you soon."

More small talk occurred before her family left the room and she was finally reunited with the only person she cared to see… Mads.

"Hi… b-beautiful," She still blushed whenever she saw her girlfriend, even though they had been dating for over a year, "Hi beautiful!"

"Happy Hunger Games, my princess," Mads wrapped her arms around Meridian, hoping it wouldn't be the last time, "You made me so proud up there when you Volunteered."

"Thank you," Mir bit her lip, letting out a small grunt, "I… was hoping you would be proud of me."

"Of course I'm proud," Mads kissed her perhaps the most intensely Mir had ever been kissed by her, almost to the extent that she was in sheer shock, "Now promise me you'll come home for me."

"I'll come home for you," Meridian pulled away, out of breath as she put up her pinky finger, "I promise."

**SAIA ANAKLUSMOS (18)  
DISTRICT FOUR MALE**

Saia was still fuming when he entered the Justice Building to say goodbye to his family.

_This was supposed to be my moment. Dammit this was supposed to finally be my moment. I'm fucked! I'm so ruined!_

"You did fine, Saia," All he wanted was a hug from his mama and thankfully she provided, "You're going to the Capitol! You did it!"

He doubted it. Everybody would be making fun of him when he got to the Capitol.

_How the hell did a Career get Reaped? District Four is so embarrassing. Saia Anaklusmos is so embarrassing._

He didn't want to be an embarrassment, that was for sure. He just wanted to be himself, somebody perfectly capable of winning the 51st Annual Hunger Games, yet now he couldn't help but feel as though he was the epitome of disappointment not only to District Four but to himself.

"It's just not the way I wanted to do it," Saia grunted, "You heard me practicing."

"I did," His mother smiled as a tear fell from her eye, "But I know you, and I know you're the type of boy who can get through anything. You always do things your way and you'll win the Hunger Games because of it."

"You'll do great," Saia's father Tether (his least favorite parent) spoke, "I look forward to seeing you again."

He had a good feeling he'd see them again as well but he was so nervous that the other Careers would fail to see him as their equal. He _was_ Reaped afterall, and that simply didn't happen all that often, "I look forward to seeing you again."

_I'll just do it my way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everybody enjoyed District Four! Thank you to Firedawn'd for Meridian and my waifu FlawlessCatastrophe for Saia. They were both so much fun to write! Now that we're 1/3 done with Introductions, I would love to hear any predictions you may have.Have a great day,Linds


	9. Curiosity and Bubba

**IX. CURIOSITY AND BUBBA**

_And has a nature so malign and ruthless,_

_That never doth she glut her greedy will,_

_And after food is hungrier than before._

**CURIOSITY “CURIE” ZINQUE (14)**

**DISTRICT FIVE NON-BINARY TRIBUTE**

The smell of food was always what woke Curie up from their somewhat zombified slumber. They enjoyed a life on a tight schedule, and in living that life, Curie often slept for eight or more hours. The District Five kid believed that they needed the sleep, the fuel to get on with their day more than anything, and like any other young adult, any other teenager, they could sleep like a rock for what seemed like hours on end. It was only when their mother woke them up with the smell of eggs and bacon that they would finally leave their bed.

“This again?” Even though eggs and bacon was one of Curie’s favorite foods, they would occasionally bore of it, “Can I try my yogurt?”

“I’m not sure it’s safe to eat,” Their mother Beatrice replied, a shrill tone in her voice, “It smells rotten.”

“It’s not rotten, it’s fermented,” The District Five kid rolled their eyes at their mother, “Obviously.”

_Why would it be rotten if I made it? Why would I purposely make food that’s rotten?_

Curiosity had spent the past few months perfecting the art of creating yogurt, much to their mother’s dismay despite the fact they were prone to experiment with food and always had been. They had spent the previous night (a Friday) boiling milk over the stove and pouring in cream and sugar and all the other ingredients that they loved in order to ensure that this batch of yogurt would be perfect, even if Beatrice didn’t approve, “Can I?”

“If you get sick it’s not my fault,” Curiosity’s mother opened the door to the refrigerator to reveal a big glass bowl of vanilla yogurt, “Save some for your friends though, okay?”

Of course Curie would save food for their friends. There truly was nothing that the District Five kid loved more than creating a feast of the healthiest foods they could find and serving it to all their friends every Saturday afternoon. They were always so eager to try Curie’s cuisine, and it gave them the biggest smile on their little face, “I was planning on it. I’m making tortilla soup as well.”

“Do tortilla soup and vanilla yogurt really go together, Curie?” Mrs. Zinque was always a bit of a rule follower, though that made sense since both her and Curie’s father were distinguished individuals, a food scientist and a nutritionist, and they both had been trained to stick to the norm, “Maybe you should pair some fruit with it instead of the soup?”

“Obviously the soup is an entree and the yogurt is dessert,” Curie pleaded, “We’ll wait some time in between courses.”

“Yogurt is an odd dessert, no?” She asked, “Maybe you could make ice cream or I could go McCow’s Creamery and buy you all some?”

_That’s ridiculous?_

Curie had a tendency to absolutely despise any food that could be considered remotely unhealthy, and ice cream was far from the exception, “Yogurt is better for us. Less sugar and it’ll make our bones grow stronger.”

“But ice cream has calci–” Curie was prepared to cut their mother off

“The carbohydrates severely outweigh the calcium. Ice cream is made with a thicker cream that adds fat which could possibly lead to indigestion,” Curie smirked, licking a bit of their yogurt, “This is way better.”

Curie needed every bite of food that they consumed to be the pinnacle of health, nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps it could be that they were a bit neurotic over maintaining their slim figure and ensuring that their skin was clear, that there wasn’t a bad calorie in their body, but they didn’t mind going completely off the walls when it came to food because it always brought a smile to their face.

“I’ll try it then,” Their mother took a spoonful of yogurt from Curie’s dish, smiling with her teeth as soon as she digested, “You know what Curie? This is actually pretty good. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Of course it’s good,” Curie’s father Albert walked into the kitchen, sitting on the barstool next to his kid, “Curiosity always makes the best food that there is to be eaten.”

“Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad.” Even though they were used to compliments on their food, Curie still blushed each and every time they received them, “Glad to hear you like it.”

They didn’t spend much more time talking to their parents after that; they had tortilla soup to make and admittedly they were a bit nervous since they’d never done a good job with it, but Curie was determined to make it work this time. They took the chicken that they had brined and cooked overnight with spices out of the refrigerator and onto the kitchen counter, using a pair of scissors to cut the twine they used to hold the bird together. The District Five kid later proceeded to put it in a large metal pot over the stove and pour in all their favorite and most healthy ingredients to make the broth. They chopped an onion, and some celery, as well as some more mild peppers and poured in oil and stock before turning on the heat and waiting for their meal to be ready.

_This is just going to be perfect!_

After what seemed like half a day but in reality was only an hour, Curie went to check their soup and was pleased to see that they had succeeded. They removed the heat, sprinkled their freshly baked whole wheat tortilla chips over the pot and then placed a lid on the pot so they could ensure it stayed warm for when their friends arrived. The District Five kid sat in their favorite chair in the living room when they heard a knock on the door. Their friends were finally starting to arrive and they were static.

The first person to arrive was their friend Nikola, which Curie felt a bit awkward about. Obviously they cherished her presence, but she was dreadfully quiet, and Curie never new what to talk about with her which was unfortunate since she was usually the first person to arrive at the friend group’s gatherings, “Thank you for coming, Nicola.”

She hesitated, not to Curie’s surprise, “It’s not a problem.”

Curie couldn’t get too upset about it since Nicola was for sure the smartest person in the friend group, she just lacked any social skills, whereas Alexandra who was the next friend to arrive was the complete opposite.

“What’s up dudes,” She made herself comfortable as she kicked off her shoes and entered the Zinque family home, “How’s it go.”

“We’re good!” Curie smiled before hearing somebody else come through the door, “Wait hold that thought, somebody else is coming.”

“Good afternoon fools!” Curie was delighted to hear their friend Stephen. He was really goofy and a bit of a nuisance at times, but Curie loved him nonetheless, save for the times where he would screw around with their food and sprinkle carbohydrates and junk into it. They didn’t have time to individually greet them though, “Oh. The bastard’s here!”

It was a weird adjustment for the District Five kid, hearing their friends grow up alongside them and begin to use foul language. It made them miss when they were all little kids and would be frightened at the thought of a word as simple as “stupid” or “dumb.”

“Of course I’m here, sluts!” Charlie was a genius but she was also the friend who had grown up the fastest. In the past year, she had non-stop been talking about sex and how she wanted to have it with everybody she saw even though she was just fourteen. Curie wasn’t remiss to the fact that her parent’s sheltered her and her sex obsession could possibly be a form of retaliation, yet Curie was still a tad uncomfortable when she burst into random sexual facts that she had memorized for some ridiculous reason.

_I guess sex to her is food to me. Once again, I’m the healthiest._

Of course Curie had a crush as well, and that was none other than Louis, who arrived after Charlie alongside Gertrude. Their crush on Louis had been going on for quite some time now, and perhaps the fact they were Curie’s best friend only made the debacle of the attraction even worse. Louis was good though; they never judgedCurie for their food obsession and always helped out with their cooking when asked, even offering on occasion. It was nice.

_If only I had an opportunity to tell them how I feel. Ah well! There’s no point in having true feelings for somebody when you’re only fourteen. We’d fall apart anyways._

That day’s gathering went just as well as Curie could have hoped it would have. Even though Stephen made his usual jerkish comments about how it was ridiculous that Curie had the tendency to make everything healthy and Charlie found it appropriate to announce that she wished somebody would nakedly spoon-fed her Curie’s soup and yogurt, it was an overall positive day. Louis looked at them a little more than they usually did, so maybe it was true the they had feelings in returned.

_It doesn’t matter though!_

Gertrude helped Curie plate the food which made it look nicer than the usual disaster it was presented as, and they appreciated it. Their heart was just as full as their stomach was as they said goodbye to their friends at the end of the day, pleased with just how much fun they had.

“You know Curie,” Their mother held their shoulder once they shut the door on Louis, “I really like these friends for you.”

“I like them for me too,” The District Five kid smiled before turning around and giving their mother a hug, “I’m so happy right now.”

“And I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Curie truly was living life in the best way that they could have ever hoped to live it. They had the best friends in the world even if they drived them crazy sometimes, they had the best parents who always looked out of them, and they had their cooking which would never not give them joy.

_I hope it stays this way forever._

**BUBBA ST. ROBBINS (18)**

**DISTRICT FIVE MALE**

**_This P.O.V. contains the use of slurs offensive to the LGBTQ community. Please proceed with caution._ **

Every day that Bubba was able to work at McCow’s Creamery was a blessing. Previously plagued to days filled with being watched like a hawk by nannies, being told what to do and how he was to spend his time was draining even if it didn’t seem like it would be. _Yeah, yeah, at least I get to have nannies, but who knew being rich could be boring._ He wanted to do something for himself for once, and at times he would feel bad for using his parents’ money on things that he wanted since as far as he was concerned he didn’t even have parents. Clara and Jeremiah (not mom and dad) were always busy at work being surgeons or whatever it was that they did (Bubba didn’t remember and he wasn’t sure if he cared to) and the District Five boy just overall felt _unwanted_ by them. It was clear they didn’t want a child since it was too much of a commitment but they felt as though they needed one to be socially acceptable.

_Too bad for them since I’m the furthest thing_ **_from_ ** _socially acceptable._

Bubba wasn’t able to come to a conclusion as to _why_ exactly he was deemed a social oddity, but he had grown to realize that he didn’t really care about the reasoning anymore.In the mornings Bubba took great pride in getting ready for his job, always ironing his polo shirt the night before and hanging it on his doorpost so that he would be ready for the day as soon as he woke up. He crawled out of his velvet pajamas and slipped the powder pink top over his head and onto his body. He made sure to leave the top button undone before putting affixing his white name tag, “Bubba” inscribed in black cursive lettering onto his shirt. He combed his tangled brown hair back and added some gel before putting on his circular hat with the McCow’s logo and pinning it onto his head. Next was the best part of his outfit, the part where Bubba wore a pleated skirt in the same color of his shirt that fell just above his knees. He was seemingly mesmerized by his appearance. It didn’t matter that skirts were supposed to be worn by girls after all,Bubba loved the way he looked in them and that was what mattered.

_How funny is it that I’m the prettiest boy in Panem?_ He winked at himself in the mirror before hopping into his black leather shoes and preparing to go to work. Maybe his parents were downstairs eating breakfast or maybe they had already gone to work but it didn’t matter all that much to Bubba since it wasn’t like he had anything to say to them and it wasn’t like they had to say anything to him.

The walk to McCow’s wasn’t particularly special in any way, Bubba picking up a croissant and a coffee at a local shop during the journey, savoring every bite and every sip. He always enjoyed food, especially since he never knew the splendor of consuming home cooked meals from his parents, usually having frozen food for dinner. Croissants and coffee was nice though; the people in the shop were kind and made his order quickly and never commented on his skirt unless they were telling him how cute it looked. _If only everybody was like this; maybe then everything would be different._

Arriving at McCow’s was always euphoric for Bubba. It had an atmosphere that wasn’t replicated anywhere in District Five as far as he knew, the pink florescent lighting displaying the menu. The floor was of a black and white checkerboard pattern and all the seats were the exact same color of Bubba’s dainty little uniform. The take-home ice cream was lit the same color of the ice cream, and the aroma of the freshly baked waffle cones invaded the District Five boys’s nostrils with glee. Old-age music from Sapphira Starlet’s album “Across The Stars” faintly playing in the background of the score, Bubba never not humming along to the choruses.

_(Y’know it’s a blitz me and you. This restaurant booth was built for two. I’d say I love you but that would be the worst thing I could do, so I guess I’ll just enjoy the bliss of the blitz)_

“Morning, St. Robbins!” His boss Hippie McCow (whether or not that’s his real name is a mystery) greeted him with a smile, the same way he did every day, “It’s always nice to see you.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you as well,” Bubba did a little curtsy with his skirt, causing Hippie to giggle, “What should I do for the day?”

“I’ve gone ahead and made many batches of ice cream so you should be set for the whole day. Just work the counter and I’ll head out,” Hippie’s voice faded.

He was growing older by the day and it was kind of sad for Bubba to watch. While the man was far from a replacement for the father he never had, the District Five boy enjoyed being mentored by him since he was genuinely a good person unlike almost everybody else he knew.

_Sad he doesn’t know who I_ **_really_ ** _am but maybe it’s better this way._

Hippie often left the shop as soon as Bubba arrived, leaving the boy to his own devices, which usually wasn’t an issue. He loved greeting the customers with a beaming smile on his face, asking them what they wanted to order and then gracefully providing, complimenting them on their outfits and how they were lovely people. It was the absolute best, knowing that he could make somebodies day just by issuing a small compliment to them. It was what allowed him to wake up in the morning and actually feel like he was worth something, especially after being told for the longest time that he wasn’t worth anything, or at least that message being hinted to him in a not so subtle manner.

It all changed that one day though. It all changed just a few hours after Hippie left for the day.

There had been a lul in customers which wasn’t particularly uncommon since most people didn’t crave ice cream so early in the morning, and Bubba didn’t exactly _think_ that anything out of the ordinary was going to happen. He thought it was just another day in the shop and more glorious customers would come soon but he was so _dreadfully_ wrong.

He heard the jingle of the bell above the door to the shop chime, immediately grabbing the District Five Boy’s attention. A short man came through the door. He was overweight, almost to a comical extent and his hair was certainly in the process of removing itself from his head. He was wearing a black pinstriped suit that didn’t fit his body at all, chunks of his stomach fat seeping from the bottom of his torso, and hands appeared to be hairy and wrinkly. At first Bubba felt bad for being so harsh on the man’s appearance, but he wouldn’t be for long.

“Welcome to McCow’s Creamery,” Bubba chirped as the man approached the counter, “My name is Bubba! How can I help you today?”

The man looked Bubba up and down and rolled his eyes in the back of his head. He wasn’t sure what the man was thinking but the words he muttered under his breath revealed everything, _“fucking fairy.”_

He didn’t know what hit him once he heard the words that rolled off the man’s tongue, but there was no going back for the District Five boy. His eyes examined the room, making sure the tinted windows would do a good job blocking out the view from outside the store, ensuring there wasn’t anybody that would be passing by and would see what was about to happen. Bubba was senseless as he felt his right hand creep towards the butcher’s knife on the counter that was used for chopping nuts, his eventual sweat sticking to the grip.

“I’m not sure if I want to be served by someone like yo–,” The man arrived in front of Bubba, his words only heightening the anger that was spinning inside his stomach.

Bubba closed his eyes and felt his right hand raise. He couldn’t control it anymore and there wasn’t even a point in him trying. He heard a loud noise and opened his eyes to see his knife planted in the man’s eyes, his screams deafening the District Five boy’s ears.

It was a miracle that the walls were sound-proof.

“You fucking faggot!” The man roared, justifying Bubba’s cruel and spontaneous decision in his head. Blood gushed from he wound, a sticky crimson staining the knife as the man tried to cover it.

Bubba had done this before. He knew how to finish him.

He carefully pranced in front of the counter and looked the man in the eyes (or rather eye) before using his knee to knock him to the ground, placing his hand on his mouth so that he could listen to the music as he delivered his final blow to the neck.

_(Y’know it’s a blitz when its just us two. You fell for me so I’ll fall for you. I’d say I need you but I know what that would do, so I guess I’ll just enjoy the bliss of the blitz)_

_It’s going to be so hard cleaning this. Blood stains marble._

He knew what he had to do if he wanted to properly dispose of the body. As soon as Bubba was sure that he was gone for good, he grabbed his arms and swung him through to the backside of the counter before opening the door to the room with the large freezer where they stored all the ice cream. He opened the heavy door, banging it against the man’s head for extra measure and moved all the ice cream inside to the front of the fridge. Hippie always had Bubba do this since he was too weak to do it himself nowadays.

_He’ll never know._

Bubba gulped before he lifted the beaten man into the freezer, shoving him so deep that he touched the back walls before covering him with the tubs of ice cream so that he could eventually decompose into the nothingness he deserved to be. The District Five boy didn’t think much more after that. He had a floor to clean and customers to serve after all.

**CURIOSITY “CURIE” ZINQUE (14)**

**DISTRICT FIVE NON-BINARY TRIBUTE**

_Nothing good lasts forever._

That’s what Curie learned on the warm July morning when a pretentiously dressed Escort read their name from a bowl, announcing to the whole country that they would be shipped off to their death, or rather to “have the honor” of representing District Five in the 51st Annual Hunger Games.

“This wasn’t what I meant when I said I was hungry before we left for the Reaping,” Curie tried to crack a joke to their parents in the Justice Building as they said what they knew were their final goodbyes.

Nobody laughed. Curie didn’t really expect them to.

“For the first time, I’m at a lost for words,” Curie’s father was the more miserable parent. Surely their mother was also mortified, but perhaps she didn’t have the words yet to express how she felt, “I’ll believe in you forever, Curie.”

“You don’t have to.” They just wanted to see their friends again, see Louis again, one last time before they left for the terror of the Capitol.

They didn’t come though. Not even Louis came. They were confused.

_Where are they?_

Maybe they weren’t allowed in the building for some reason or maybe they didn’t care. Curie was exhausted and didn’t have time to think about what they were thinking. They were trying to see the positive in everything that was happening but they were disgustingly unable to. The District Five kid’s parents were silent as they watched their child slowly realize how badly things were about to be. It wasn’t like anything they said would be worth anything.

Not even the possibility of new food would be enough to make Curie smile.

**BUBBA ST. ROBBINS (18)**

**DISTRICT FIVE MALE**

The only bright side to being Reaped was that Bubba genuinely thought he had a chance, even if he was too afraid to verbalize it in the Justice Building since that would lead people onto who he was, and the crimes he had previously committed. Nobody needed to know but him.

_Killing Watty let me get over the hurdle. Break the ice. Everything after him was easy and everybody next will be the same._

He didn’t want to be cocky but he didn’t want to be too naive to the fact he actually had a shot even if it was a small one, and he would be mad to deny it. The District Five boy couldn’t show it on his face, as badly as he wanted to smile or at least seem relatively content, he knew he couldn’t.

It wasn’t all that surprising when Bubba’s parents didn’t say goodbye to him before he left. The interaction would have been painfully awkward and he didn’t need that in his life. He didn’t need their bullshit wishes of good luck and how they’d “miss him so dearly,” because it was obvious based on previous behavior that they didn’t.

“Your grandfather is here to see you,” A Peacekeeper announced, Bubba confused since he didn’t know he had a grandfather.

The feeling didn’t last long though, since Hippie hobbled into the room to give the District Five boy the world’s warmest hug, “I told them I was your grandpa so they would let me see you. I’m going to miss you kid.”

“What are you going to do with the shop?” Bubba hugged him back. He was the only consistent employee and he couldn’t help but be afraid that the business would be shattered.

“I’ll figure it out,” Hippie sighed, clearly out of breath, “Don’t worry about me. You’ll do fine out there, I just know it.”

_And I think I know it too!_

**Sorry for the delay with this chapter! I wanted to write it but the shit with FFN being down made me really unmotivated but yeah anyways here is District Five! Let me know what you think of Curie from Platrium and Bubba from kremit1000! I hope everybody is staying safe and trying to be positive even though it is rather hard for us americans to do so right now.**

**Best,**

**Lindsay**


	10. Silvana and Otto

**CHAPTER X. SILVANA AND OTTO**

_Nor when the wretched Icarus his flanks_

_Felt stripped of feathers by the melting wax,_

_His father crying, “An ill way thou takest!”_

**SILVANA ILDRON (17)**

**DISTRICT SIX FEMALE**

Silvana Ildron was so fucking grounded the minute she got home and she knew it too.

“You’ll be safe right?” Her mother was under a false impression of what the District Six girl _really_ did with her friends.

“Of course I’ll be safe,” Silvana smirked, not knowing what would happen that very night, “I’ll be with Elowyn after all!”

Elowyn wasn’t safe that night (or any night but that was besides the point). She picked Silvana up on her shiny black motorcycle, revving the engine several times before she walked out the door. The seats were a fancy leather that the two had refurbished together, and “E+S” was scratched in a heart on the left side.

“Good evening babe,” Elowyn winked, the fluorescent street lights making her eyes extra green, the beaten leather on her jacket taking on a certain sheen, “How goes it?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Silvana sighed, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek, “I got into a fight with mom earlier today.”

“When don’t you?” She laughed before gesturing to the space behind her on the motorcycle, “Hop on; we have a wild night up ahead of us.”

Neither knew just how wild it would be as Silvana straddled the leather seat and wrapped her arms around Elowyn, trying not to tickle her stomach with her slender fingers. She severely underestimated just how safe she felt as her girlfriend applied pressure to the pedal, whisking them away from the suburbs and into the night life they had both grown to love oh so very much.

Silvana met Elowyn almost a year prior after driving past her on her personal motorcycle which she had fixed up from old parts at a protest against Peacekeeper brutality, immediately draw to her carefree spirit and the fire in her eyes whenever she yelled at a Peacekeeper or just generally showed her passion for something. She was wickedly charming and Silvana fell fast, especially after Elowyn allowed her to integrate into her gang of bikers known as The Pistons. She was her ride or die, and there was often more riding than dying.

“So what are the plans then?” It was hard for Silvana to speak when she was on the bike due to the loud noises but she tried anyways, “I heard there’s a riot downtown after the shooting incident at the doughnut shop.”

The District Six girl saw on the news earlier that day that Macintoshes, her favorite place to get doughnuts had been shot up by Peacekeepers after it was discovered to secretly be a cartel for selling morphling. Funny enough, she had no idea and just _really_ liked their glazed doughnuts.

“Where do you think we’re going?” If there was one thing that Elowyn enjoyed more than anything it was a protest, “You loved that place, right? Don’t you want to take action.”

She did, she really did, it was just also the night before her seventeenth birthday and she was hoping that Elowyn could perhaps take her to a nice candlelit dinner or something in that regard but of course not! With her it was always “protest against this” and “protest against that” and while Silvana had the same desire to take action, she couldn’t help but long for the times before she was so politically involved and could just be a kid, even if she felt a need to go against the grain and all the injustices that District Six had to offer.

“I do!” Silvana reassured her girlfriend, not wanting to kill the mood (if there even was one to begin with), “I’m excited; I promise.”

There was a nervous energy in the air as the girls rode closer and closer to the middle of the town for the protest. The District Six girl felt that something major was on the horizon, if only she could place her finger on it.

“Almost here,” Elowyn announced, putting her head behind herself and onto Silvana’s shoulder, “This is going to be amazing! We’re going to have so much fun.”

The girls hopped off the bike to approach the remainder of the gang. They too had just gotten off their bikes and they were eyeing the gas and the lights that was just a few meters in front of them.

“Good evening ladies,” Vulture, the leader of the gang curtsied and extended his hand at them, “You really to cause some trouble?”

_Why is it always about causing trouble and not just making an impact? Do they even care that I’m here, that tomorrow’s my birthday? Am I just another body to them?_

She appreciated the Pistons even if they, much like Elowyn had somewhat questionable motives and tactics to get what they wanted, which at the end of the day was justice and positive change.

“Sup’ Ildron,” Rogue, followed by Switchblade and Axel, three of the other gang members approached the duo, “Happy early birthday, by the way.”

“It’s your birthday soon?” Just as Silvana knew it, Elowyn had forgotten the significance of the day, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you fucking stupid,” She rolled her eyes, “Why didn’t you remember?”

“I’m sorry…” Elowyn hesitated before wrapping her arm around Silvana with a sense of pride, kissing her on the cheek, “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“I guess there’s trouble in paradise after all,” Axel laughed, ignoring the obvious tension.

The District Six girl didn’t care to address the lack of _unity_ in their relationship that day. The discussion would come later, when it naturally had to happen, but that day they just wanted to get the justice they felt they needed more than anything.

So she grabbed Elowyn’s hand. She grabbed Elowyn’s hand as they headed feet first into the corruption of the world around them, sirens screaming for the mercy they wouldn’t let them have. For a moment or two, Silvana looked down at the taller girl’s rebellious grin and remembered it was the exact thing, the way her lips curled in chaos that made her fall in love with her in the first place… _good lord, I’m useless._

Elowyn let go of Silvana’s hand and ran towards the crowd, cupping her hands around her mouth like a megaphone, “When our town is under attack… what do we do?”

“–Stand up! Fight back!” The rest of the Pistons chanted in response, Silvana echoing along with them.

The calling and responding continued as her ears began to ring. Elowyn didn’t once look back to see if she was okay as her chanting became more and more aggressive, “Smoke dope! Get high!”

“Peacekeeper pigs have got to die,” Switchblade yelled back. She was always the loudest one besides Elowyn.

The words slurred more and more until Silvana had no idea what anybody was even saying, it was just a mish-mosh of “fucks” and “bastards” until they finally got to the center.

“Please, stand back,” A Peacekeeper pleaded with the group as they began to approach. They were too busy restraining other protesters and they clearly didn’t want to be bothered by the Pistons. They indeed had a reputation for being troublemakers, never to be messed with.

_Fuck that! I do what I want!_

Silvana readied her left fist, brushing it against the Peacekeepers shoulder as she leaped past him, “If you’re going to be a pig then you should move to District Ten.”

She laughed at her own joke even though it was stupid as hell before getting back into the chanting of the main group, even leading her own at one point, “If we don’t get it.”

“–Shut it down!”

Silvana got carried away for a moment as she often did when she was protesting as she looked at all the people around her. They were such a beautiful mix of young and old, white and black, straight and gay, and they were all coming together over the same thing. It was just as beautiful as it was fucked up, the fact that so many people banded together over the lack of support for the numerous addicts of District Six. The way that nobody seemed to care about anything as long as everybody was submissive to the Capitol. It was disgusting and as much as Silvana loved being there, she hated _why_ she was there.

She was lost in thought for a bit too long…

_Where’s Elowyn?_

She hadn’t seen her in at least five minutes.

“Where’s Elowyn?” She called her girlfriends name, hoping that she would get a reply.

As she waited she scanned the yelling crowd once more, still no sign of the girl who took her under her wings when she had felt so lost, so hopeless. Silvana knew that Elowyn had the tendencies to get carried away at the protests, but she hoped that she was at least staying safe, “S-Silvana!”

Judging by the tone in her voice she was indeed _not_ staying safe. Silvana ran towards the noise until she saw her girlfriend on top of a Peacekeeper, pinning him to the ground like he wasn’t human. _It was kind of really fucking hot,_ but she couldn’t get distracted now.

“You need help?” Silvana mauled through crowds of people until she reached the altercation gasping as she saw tears in Elowyn’s eyes and a handcuff around her wrist, “What the fuck happened?”

“This bitch tried to take out my eye, that’s what fucking happened,” The Peacekeeper rolled over to reveal a crack in his face shield, “Do you know her?”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Elowyn pleaded with the struggling officer, “I won’t hurt you again; just let me go.”

The Peacekeeper grabbed Silvana with his free hand, which was of course holding Elowyn’s knife. She braced for impact, trying to somehow fight back but she had no idea what it would take to get rid of him. She just wanted him, and all of the rest of the pain to go away but instead she felt a tear in her back as the knife pulled her down to the ground.

“I can tell you’re just a good kid who does bad things,” The Peacekeeper tried to reason with her as he let go, watching as the screaming Elowyn finally submitted to him, “She’s the real trouble maker here so she’s coming with me.”

As he dragged off her screaming body, Silvana heard Elowyn mumble something along the lines of “happy birthday.”

_As if this was ever supposed to be a happy birthday._

**OTTO WILEY (15)**

**DISTRICT SIX MALE**

If only Otto Wiley could fly.

He spent days upon days in that abandoned warehouse that his Uncle Harrison had gotten him access to for his 11th birthday just a few blocks away from their house in the suburbs trying to get Project Icarus right.

_It’s what I’ve got to do for Silas after all._

Not a day went by where he didn’t remember Sy, his older brother and the one person that he could actually consider a friend. The one person who didn’t mind when he spent all day in his room just tinkering around with random objects until he managed to create something that would do anything to help him. It had been over a year since he was killed in the Games by that bastard kid from District Four, yet whenever Otto messed up with whatever he was making, he would still hear Sy’s infectious laughter.

_“You don’t have to rush over everything Otto. Just take your time and it’ll all turn out just the way we planned it.”_

(But it indeed wasn’t going to turn out the way Otto and Silas had planned it since it was always just supposed to be the two of them against the world until the very end. It was just supposed to be them who got to test Project Icarus for the first time but instead Otto was accompanied by their uncle.)

It wasn’t that Harrison was a bad man by any means, since he was kind enough to take care of the Wiley boys after their parents died in a fire when they were just toddlers, but he was just _frustrating_ at times. Otto knew that he cared, or at least that he tried his very best to care, but it just came out as anger, though he certainly didn’t blame the dude for being an overall unpleasant person. He lost his brother and his nephew after all.

“Alright, so when are you doing this thing?” He was as impatient as ever as Otto finished the wiring for what would be the first test flight.

Project Icarus was the “Secret Codename” for a pair of fully functioning human wings that the boys had been working on for what seemed like years. It all started when Sy was able to use his impeccable drawing skills to create a design that would allow them to gain the ability of flight that they had so desperately desired for so many years.

It would just be neat, to be able to tower above everyone in District Six, in all of Panem and whatever the hell else there was, not caring what anybody thought of him, and that he was a “nerd” or something like that. He could be above all of that and after experiencing so much hurt, Otto Wiley sure as hell wouldn’t mind being on top.

_I’m sure when you’re flying, nobody gives a fuck about who you are or where you’ve come from. It sure as hell doesn’t matter that I’m worth jack shit if I’m flying –right?_

It just… it would have been so much better if Silas was there for the historic day where Otto took flight for the first of what would be many times, but he wasn’t here, and there was no sugarcoating it anymore. Even when Otto woke up in the mornings expecting to see his brother’s smiling face from across the bedroom they shared, smiling like an idiot and making some off the cuff remark about how he drools in his sleep. Then Otto would laugh and ask his brother why he’s watching him sleep and Silas would think of some smart thing to say and then they would laugh and play wrestle and it would all be okay since they would once again be reminded that they have each other.

They could just pretend that it was them against the world instead of Otto against the world and then he would be happy as he lifted from the ground into the sky.

_That’s the only way I could be close to him now since he’d be pissed as hell at me if I killed myself._

Ever since Sy died, Otto had practically locked himself away in the warehouse, trying to perfect the wings, but it was hard without being able to ask Sy any questions since he simply couldn’t, yet Otto was able to manage anyways, as hard as it was. He had to do it all by himself.

_I just want to fly…_

Otto strapped the wings to his body, unsure about what the results would be to his little experiment, his test flight. He wanted to reach the sun, Silas, and he was determined to do it that day on an empty field next to a small hill, “It’s only going to be half an hour or so; I just want to try this.”

He moved his arms back and forth like a bird of sorts, hoping that the wind would propel him to be lifted off of the ground and into the air, and for a moment it worked as he ran across the field and slowly hovered, “Holy shit, I’m doing it!”

“Watch your mouth!” Otto didn’t care what his Uncle was saying, his hypocrisy very apparent in those moments. He didn’t _have_ to care what anybody thought because he was actually flying.

It seemed as though he could see all of Panem, the clouds, the small houses in the distance, the sun higher in the sky than ever before. The wind ruffled his hair as he looked over the land that he felt he was the ruler of. Even if he was _maybe_ ten or so feet in the air, Otto felt like he was invincible.

Well, he felt invincible until he didn’t.

The more time that Otto spent in the sky, flapping his wings and looking over everything, the more the wind intensified. At first he didn’t mind. It was just a friendly breeze and it was only propelling him to new heights. Soon he was fifteen, twenty, thirty feet into the air, the wind now pushing him towards the mountains.

_Maybe I should be scared?_

He tried to lower himself to the ground but he couldn’t. All the wind wanted to do was terrorize the poor boy into it’s submission. The wind didn’t even care when it pushed Otto into the mountains at a speed that seemed to be quicker than 100 miles an hour, “Fucking hell.”

If the mental pain that Otto felt when Silas died was bad, the physical pain he felt when his right leg collided with the rocks was the worst thing he could have ever imagined. It was caught in between two and the District Six boy couldn’t get it out. He could barely use it through the agonizing pain but when he looked down and saw blood gushing from the wound, redder than the wound he saw in Sy’s throat when he watched him die on television, he wanted to pass out or vomit or do something, anything to get rid of all the hurt in his leg.

“Otto?” His Uncle chased him, gasping in horror once he saw what had happened to his nephew’s leg.

The rocks had penetrated his leg and his bones were beginning to expose themselves from beneath the flesh. All Otto could do was scream. Uncle Harrison removed the limb from the rocks, resting Otto’s head on his chest when he finally revealed the full extent of the injury.

It was the worst thing that Otto had ever seen.

He could barely recognize his own leg, instead only seeing blood and cuts so deep his bones were exposed, nerves out in the open for everybody to see. The god he had so recently claimed himself to be had been slain so quickly, and the only thing that was left was pure and utter pain.

Otto screamed as he tried to lift his leg, and his yelling only worsened when it detached itself from his body and started rolling down the hill, “I think we need to see a doctor or something.”

They couldn’t afford a doctor, and his leg was almost certainly gone so Otto had to “tough it out” as his Uncle slowly stitched together his wound using a sewing needle and thread, hoping that the wound wouldn’t get infected somehow.

If only Otto Wiley could walk.

He was convinced that he would never be able to do it again and he was becoming more and more bitter as a result of it all. While he had felt useless before, this was far worse. Otto knew that he would get out of his previous feelings of uselessness, but this accident meant that he was useless for the rest of his life. He couldn’t help but wonder, _If Sy was still here, would this have happened?_

He channeled his brother when he took the pieces of the failed Project Icarus and turned them into something that he could use for himself. He used old metal rods and was successfully able to create something that he would actually be able to consider useful for himself. Otto was thrilled that he could actually make himself his very own leg.

He became obsessed with his leg as he taught himself to walk over and over again, tweaking tiny details with meticulosity as too perfect the device. It would finally give him freedom to exist on his own terms without worrying about being a crutch to anybody else and he wanted so badly to be happy.

But walking was never enough for Otto. He still wanted to fly. He wanted to touch the stars and give his brother a high five even if all logic said that he was unable to.

_I’ve just, I’ve come so close before, I’ll do it the next time._

Uncle Harrison always had to tell him to get out of his warehouse and focus on himself instead of Silas’ legacy but he refused. He needed to fly for the sake of his brother, even if it was the last thing he ever did. Otto didn’t know what he would do once his wings would finally be able to work, but he knew that it would be brilliant.

**SILVANA ILDRON (17)**

**DISTRICT SIX FEMALE**

_As if my life couldn’t get any fucking worse?_

Silvana was in a rut and the Reaping was just the icing on the cake. Ever since her seventeenth birthday, her life seemed to be falling in pieces. She had constant back pains as a result of the incident with the Peacekeeper, and even as those improved, everything else got so much worse. Her parents were so mad at her and she could hardly blame them, she disappointed them and she got hurt as a result of it. No parent ever wanted to see their child get hurt. Elowyn went off to jail, and while she was only there for a few weeks, the first thing she did upon her return was break up with Silvana. This of course made things awkward in the Pistons, significantly reducing the time that she spent with them, _and now I’m being sent off to my death!_

“I just,” Her youngerbrother Oswin was furious in the Justice Building, “Why do they have to take her away?”

The siblings were never close, the two of them and their older sister Evie, so the boy actually agreeing with them was a stunning yet equally awful moment.

“That’s just the world we live in,” Her father Alvis tried to comfort him but it was so clearly a lost cause, “I’m sorry, son.”

“Are you not going to apologize to be or something?” Silvana couldn’t help it but snap at him, “I _am_ the one dying after all.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you Silvana,” Her mother Ophelia tried to soothe her by patting her back even if it didn’t work, “I hope you can come back to us.”

_What kind of shit saying is that? Bitch, I hope I can come back too!_

“Whatever guys,” Silvana scoffed and decided she was done with her family and ready for whatever it was that the Capitol had to offer.

**OTTO WILEY (15)**

**DISTRICT SIX MALE**

The parallels between Silas’ Reaping were terrifyingly present. The same overly pampered woman adressed the crowd of people in poverty, giving the same spiel about how the Hunger Games are so important or whatever and how being chosen is a great honor to “represent everything beautiful that District Six stands for.”

_As if District Six is even close to beautiful._

Their District Parters were even similar, vaguely intimidating girls with pale skin and broken smiles. Surely she wouldn’t talk to Otto, but Otto really didn’t want to be spoken to.

Once his name was called he did the exact same thing that he did with Silas, he began to scream in his seat, kicking his legs, screaming for mercy only this time it wasn’t for Silas, it was for himself.

The Escort called him a handsome young man and then whisked him off to the Justice Building so he could say goodbye to his Uncle, another eerily familiar situation.

“I have no idea what I am supposed to say to be perfectly honest,” He said upon their reunion, “Otto, buddy, you’re a great kid. I don’t know why this happened.”

It made enough sense. His life was already shitty and of course it just had to get shittier. That’s just unfortunate common sense. Disgusting.

“I don’t know why either,” The District Six boy’s had mainly subsided, but not quite, “If the good die young then maybe I should have been worse.”

Nothing would be able to help him now, not Sy, not his Uncle, not anything. If only he could find his own way out…


	11. Cruel and Unusual Punishment

**CHAPTER XI. CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT**

_Whoever of your world deprives himself,_

_Who games, and dissipates his property,_

_And weepeth there, where he should jocund be._

**SAPPHIRA STARLETT (43)**

**VICTOR OF THE 25** **TH ** **HUNGER GAMES**

The week before the Reapings was always the hardest for Sapphira. Even in the years where she wasn’t mentoring, Crista was required to go back to District Four to sit on the stage for the duration of the Ceremony. She didn’t have family in Four (or at all), but Crista loved the beaches and the waves and the water and the Reapings in Four tended to be less formal than those at One.

“Are you sure we should take her?” Sapphira was beginning to have doubts about having Cressida accompany her and Crista to the Capitol for the 51st Hunger Games, “I’m sure my father would be willing to watch her.”

Usually Cressida stayed with Sapphira’s father while her mothers were in the Capitol, and while he wasn’t the best grandfather in Panem which wasn’t surprising since he was far from the best father, Cressida admitted to enjoying her time watching all the “pretty people” on TV during the Pre-Games, and then hiding in what used to be Sapphira’s bedroom and watching as many movies as her little heart could hold until Sapphira and Crista returned to pick her up once the Games were through.

“She doesn’t like it there,” Crista rubbed her wife’s back as the family sat in the theatre room to watch a movie on their last “normal night” of the year, “She says he’s boring.”

Sapphira wasn’t _too_ surprised by that confession. It wasn’t anything particularly out of the ordinary to hear that her father basically ignored Cressida and she spent all her time upstairs watching movies as a result, the parallels to her own childhood obvious, “And he is; I just don’t want her to get traumatized by the Games.”

Cressida had been begging for her mothers to take her to the Capitol ever since she learned what it was. All the costumes, the glamour, the sheer luxe that everybody embodied themselves in. She really took after her mother Sapphira in that sense, that same lust for stardom.

“She’s tougher then you think,” Crista rubbed Sapphira’s back, her head tucked under her armpit, “And I doubt she’ll even comprehend everything.”

Sapphira doubted it but she didn’t want to instigate that night. She just wanted to enjoy the peace of herdaughter and her beloved, already yearning for a few weeks away when they could return to the same normalcy, “You like the movie, Cress?”

She’d been quiet for a while now, perhaps because she was enamored in the movie they were watching, _The Terrible Treks of Faust Fornam 2_ starring Roscius Mills. They watched the first film the previous night, Cressida’s first action movie. She was strangely hooked on it, enough so that Sapphira began more certain that her daughter wouldn’t mind seeing the Games in person. They couldn’t be that much worse than the movie since it _was_ shockingly gory for a movie.

“He looks so good…” Sapphira muttered as she saw the young star flaunt his sporty figure across the screen, his hips swaying as he paraded through the forest.

“Yeah?” Crista smiled, looking at Cressida’s awestruck face on the floor, “You like the movie, right?”

Suddenly it got a bit more gory, the films titular character getting clawed at by a wolf, his face bleeding onto the dirt floors, “Not as much anymore. Mommy’s movie?”

Sapphira was guilty in trying to hook her daughter on anything but her old movies since she really didn’t need to see the girl she once was so certain she was. The girl she was so utterly disgusted by, the girl she couldn’t ever recognize.

_It’s crazy to think I_ **_ever_ ** _looked like that… and I fucking wasted it all._

She cringed as she saw her younger self once again grace the screen, Cressida screaming in glee at the sight of her mother, even if Sapphira couldn’t tell whether or not she understood the dense subject matter of the film. She herself wasn’t sure she understood. The movie was about cheating in relationships and the toxicities it involved, and such toxicities weren’t known to Sapphira Starlett anymore. Their relationship was the type of euphoria that she didn’t know she craved until it happened. She didn’t realize how badly she needed somebody to spend the rest of her life with, especially after the trauma of the Games.

After the Games she never thought she’d be able to sleep besides someone, much less fuck them, start a family with them, the images of Summer fresh in her mind for the longest time. She could have died so easily that day, and it was just as easy for somebody to kill her the same way, in her most vulnerable state. Anaïs came and left, frustrated by the lack of sex, and Sapphira couldn’t really blame her, but the gentle disposition and patience of Crista Cray somehow slipped though the tiniest cracks in her rock hard exterior.

And Sapphira let her.

She let Crista speak to her, be subjected to her useless ranting, give her soft kisses as they watched the dog run. Sapphira let Crista love her, as hard as it was for the girl. She had never felt so cared for, so _valued_ , as she felt when she was with Crista. She felt like she was the star she once knew herself to be. The star on the screen that she wished she still saw when she looked in the mirror.

“Crista,” Sapphira needed the one thing that made her feel just as alive as she did when she was in her twenties, “You still love me right, even thought I’m not _her_ anymore,” she gestured at her own on the screen. She could hardly recognize herself.

“You’re her,” Crista kissed her on the cheek, “Always have been and always will be.”

Sapphira glanced down at Cressida, struck by the awe in her eyes as she stared at the movie, “Do you like the movie Cress?”

“You’re my favorite part,” The girl smiled

“Mine too,” Crista pulled her wife closer as she fell asleep to the symphonies of her youth and her sense of belonging.

**HAYMITCH ABERNATHY (17)**

**VICTOR OF THE 50** ** TH ** **HUNGER GAMES**

There would never be enough time in the world for Haymitch to fully get over the loss of his mother. It was as if everywhere he went, he was followed by the fading memories of her soft and comforting presence as he pretend she was still with him when he tried to go to sleep but couldn’t because of the nightmares, not only from the Games but from the terrible thing that happened to her.

_What did I do wrong?_ He would never understand why his actions in the arena were so awful. _I wanted to win, to get out. And I did what I had to do for that to happen. They want a ruthless Victor right? Somebody experimental?_

Maybe the reason he would never understand was because there simply wasn’t anything for him to understand. What Haymitch did wasn’t nearly as horrible as the heinous attacks on his mother that followed. The forcefield incident wasn’t as bad as the many sleepless nights he spent as memories of his mother’s dead body rolled through his mind.

“You know that you’re fine, right?” His boyfriend Noel was always trying to comfort him on the dark days where he’d be plagued by thoughts of everything that would happen and everything that was sure to come, “They’re the bad guys, not you.”

Even though the two of them had been together since before the Games (which made Haymitch feel sort of nice since he knew he wasn’t being taken advantage of), Noel’s words no longer worked on him. They had before, his poems and soft singing lulling Haymitch to sleep night after night, making his previous state of poverty not all that bad. Noel was like a guy out of the movies, almost too good to be true, but the fact he was true was perhaps the best thing, “I just can’t say I understand why she’s gone.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Noel grabbed his hand harder than before as the two of them walked to Haymitch’s house in Victor’s Village. Noel was from his old neighborhood in the Seam, and Haymitch was always kind of embarrassed when he took him to his new house, even if he supposedly “earned it.”

_What good is this nice house if mom isn’t in the kitchen cooking dinner? How am I supposed to consider this place a home even?_

“Well then I won’t,” Haymitch forced a smile. He hated that the majority of his conversations with Noel had become centered on his mother yet it was all that he could think about, he just wished he could love his boyfriend unapologetically and not be forced to think about the fact his mother wouldn’t be there to walk him down the aisle when they eventually got married.

“So what do you want to talk about then,” Noel sat him down on a bench a couple blocks away from his house. As he did instinctually, Haymitch tucked his head under the taller boy’s arms, talking a deep breath to remind himself that he was safe.

_I miss when Noel holding me was my safe space. I miss when I was actually able to consider any space safe._

“Anything but her,” He felt Noel’s warmth embody his soul as he kissed Haymitch’s forehead, his fingers picking through the loose strands of his hair, “Can I talk about you and how much I appreciate you?”

“Me?” Noel let out a confused laugh, “Hay, you’re the real catch here. You kept my broke ass around even after you won the Hunger Games. I don’t know any guy that would do that.”

“Well I don’t know any guy who would tolerate his boyfriend only talking about his dead mom,” Haymitch untangled himself from Noel’s arms so he could sit on his lap and stare into his hypnotic brown eyes. He didn’t care that he was in public, and that people sure as hell would recognize him, _I just need the feeling he used to bring me to come back._

“If you’ve got to talk about it then–” Haymitch cut him off with a kiss, pressing his head against the back of the bench, “Okay then!”

Noel kissed back with more passionate than Haymitch’s initial action, prompting him to wrap his arms around his neck and slip his legs through the park bench and around his waist. Noel guided his hands down Haymitch’s back, eventually reaching the spot just above his ass, “I just remembered that we’re in public!”

“Right,” Haymitch mumbled unhooking himself from Noel and sitting next to him on the bench as if his tongue wasn’t in his throat less than a minute ago, “I think we should hurry up our walk back to my house.”

“You want to?” He knew what Noel was implying right away.

“Fuck yeah I do,” The feeling Haymitch had when they had first gotten together was finally returning.

He practically sprinted through the streets of the neighborhood, grabbing Noel’s hand and ignoring the confused stares of the passerby. Haymitch was simply _so_ excited to spend even more time with his darling, provided that the remainder of his family wasn’t home.

It wasn’t that his father Elias and his sisters Beth and Melody minded the fact he was bisexual, in fact they were quite supportive of his relationship, Haymitch just didn’t need them to see him run up to his room in a hurry, practically unable to take his hands off Noel.

But they wouldn’t be home! The girls were at school and his father usually did grocery shopping around this time of the week, and by the time he and Noel were done with whatever they were excited to get up to, they’d have enough time to shower off and pretend that they were just watching a movie. Even if Haymitch was a Victor, his father still had rules which included leaving the door to his bedroom wide open whenever Noel was over. It was fine though; it made Haymitch feel normal.

“I’m so excited,” Haymitch stood on the tip of his toes and pressed his lips against Noel’s ear, excited to whisper even more sweet nothings.

He turned the key to the big wooden door of the house and immediately realized that something was wrong. There was smashed glass on the ground and when he looked to the left he saw the only thing that he could consider worse than his mother’s body.

Haymitch closed his eyes and turned to hug Noel. He couldn’t bear the sight of his father and sisters’ cold, dead bodies on the ground.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER XII. SABLE AND GARRICK**

_“O, of the other poets honor and light,_  
Avail me the long study and great love  
That have impelled me to explore thy volume!

**SABLE HAYASHI (17)**

**DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE**

She couldn’t believe what she had just seen, yet at the same time the moment she saw it, Sable Hayashi knew _exactly_ what she was being forced into witnessing. Well actually she wasn’t forced and it was just an accident but she was sort of in the mood to be dramatic and act like she had just been pushed to see her absolute worst nightmare, even if it was a nightmare that was realistically bound to happen eventually, she just didn’t need to see it and she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to either.

It wasn’t a big deal. The District Seven girl couldn’t make it a big deal. They’re two people and they’re in love, _good for them!_ It’s just… she knew they made love, even if that thought was a permanent resident of the back closet of her mind and it didn’t need to be unleashed. They were just, _so_ disgustingly in love. The type of love she had wanted for her entire life and the exact opposite of Mom and Dad’s love. Not that they had any right to even enter her head… _they didn’t._

_(And the sad thing is that Linnea looks so fucking ethereal under Gio, her hair loosely tucked beneath an ear as she looks at him as though he's the only man in the world)_

_I should stop looking._

She's already a creep for looking at Linnea like that; no need to exemplify it.

Sable closed the door that the two lovebirds hadn’t bothered shutting, too consumed by their affections by one another. Hopefully it wouldn’t be brought up and dinner and hopefully Linnea would sit across the table from Sable again and she’d be able to sneak glances of her smile _(her fucking smile)_ , even if it was directed at Gio and not her. They _were_ twins after all; practically the same person _(not at all the same person)._

She’s lucky she has her own room in grandma’s cottage, even if it’s the size of her walk in closet from the old house. It’s enough, Sable has to tell herself that it’s enough, that _she’s_ enough.

(But she’s not Gio, and Gio is hardly enough these days.)

At least Gio has Linnea and her innoculous laugher (that Sable wishes she could cause), her wavy brown hair (that Sable so desperately wants to run her fingers through), her pale skin (that Sable needs to feel against hers), and her beautiful brown eyes (that Sable craves to see more of).

“Could you pick the leaks for dinner, Sable,” Her grandmother cut through the silence of her fantasy, “I plan on making that soup you like again.”

“With the chives?” The District Seven girl stuttered, her mind still out of the present day, “I picked them all this morning. Did’ja not see?”

“My bad,” She turned around and saw the vegetables on a table, “Are lavender scones okay for dessert?”

_Linnea Hethway is good for dessert..._ “Sure thing, Grandma.”

She can’t think like that. Mother wouldn’t want her to think like that.

_I should write some of this shit down._

Sable buried herself in her room once more. Maybe writing would help; it tended to have that affect on her. Oh to feel nothing and everything at the same time.

_All the things I wish I could tell Linnea._ She underlined the girls name for dramatics. _I don’t know what led me to loving you._

_You’re out of my league; the furthest thing from my league actually. Lord, you’re too good for even my idiot brother (as much as I love him, it’s true). Please look at me the way you did that day the chickens got loose from the pen and we had to retrieve them._

_(Please look at me)_

_Please be mine until the sun sets on the world and there’s nothing left but the two of us, yet it doesn’t matter since you’re holding my hand (which would feel like the end of the world to me, regardless)._

_Make a little universe with me…_

She crumbled the paper, “Useless.”

Maybe it’ll be nice fuel for the fireplace, though that would risk Linnea (or worse, Gio) seeing it. She opted to shove it in a drawer instead. It’s probably safer there, after all.

Sable has often found peace being outside with her pet chickens, and that day was no exception. They’ve all got names, Pesto, Basil, Paprika, Cilantro, and Onion, as well as the donkey, Balaam, and they’ve always treated her better than real people, _or at least better than my parents._

But everybody is better than Dorvel and Mihaela Hayashi, which is fitting since they’re more ghosts than people. Not because they’re dead but rather because Sable wishes they were.

_No, no, I shouldn’t wish death on other people. They’re horrible but I shouldn’t wish death upon them. They never wanted me; they made it clear that they never wanted me. That doesn’t mean they have to die_ **_nobody_ ** _deserves to die, Sable._

Still, the echoes of her father follow her wherever she goes, even miles away in the cottage her grandmother took her to after adopting her and Gio, freeing the twins from the oppressive bounds of their previous house.

_“Be more like your brother Sable,” Dorvel’s words cut like knives, “You’re just so weird and I don’t get it. You’re so_ **_damn quiet.”_ **

Still, at least those moments meant that he was acknowledging her, which was more than Mihaela could offer. All she could give to Sable and Gio were disappointed glares at the dinner table and broken promises that they would one day be successful. Not that she had the proper version of “success” defined in her mind. To her, success was just taking over father’s business running the paper processing factory that had given the family their wealth and submitting to the capitalist system they were oppressed under, not that Mihaela thought she was oppressed, _probably because she was the biggest example of the way it could corrupt people, save for Dorvel._

The goat and the chickens didn’t care though. They didn’t care that Sable was stupidly quiet and that her only human friends were her grandmother, her brother, and his girlfriend. They always had a way of making her feel like she was enough, even though they couldn’t speak to her, but again, Sable was used to not being spoken to. She hadn’t even spoken to her older sisters in years, as they married rich and didn’t see a use for her or Gio. They were probably just as beaten down as she was, they just expressed it differently, _which is I guess good for them._

Still, Sable couldn’t help but feel as though she was always pitied. The twin nobody remembered or cared for, the twin who wouldn’t be inheriting Hayashi Processing (though Gio didn’t want it now). The twin who spoke more on paper than she did with her mouth, and the twin who didn’t have Linnea Hethway.

Dinners were always nice when Linnea was there. Her brash sense of humor and dramatic winks were quite characteristic and they lightened up the mood of the broken tension Sable and Gio still felt towards their grandmother.

(Though, it had been quite awkward ever since Gio stumbled along some of Sable’s poetry about Linnea a few months back, yet he was still almost _nice_ to her about it. Well, not _nice_ nice, but rather it was clear he pitted her, not that she could blame him.)

“And what did you do today?” Linnea’s voice was as melodic as ever, and clearly she didn’t notice what Sable had walked in on.

“I went to work and helped with dinner,” She gulped, somewhat nervous whenever Linnea spoke to her, “A typical day. And you?”

Sable worked as an archivist for a local library, and spent manny of her days just reading to her heart’s content since people in District Seven didn’t really do all that much reading, probably because they were busy with labor and whatever else there was to do for them. Even then, everything the District Seven girl read was used textbooks, which she didn’t mind too badly since she barely remembered anything that she learned at school.

“I was with your darling brother for most of the afternoon,” Gio playfully slapped her, his face blushing the same way Sable’s often did, “We had a nice time together.”

“What did you get up too?” Sable immediately wished she hadn’t said that.

“Oh we just chatted,” Gio chimed in, “It was rather lovely.”

“You’re more than _rather_ lovely,” Linnea pinched his cheeks.

_They’re so in love. Fucking disgusting._

Luckily, their grandmother wasn’t the biggest fan of displays of affection at the dinner table, “You know, there’s other people here.” They didn’t kiss after that. Sable was grateful.

She loved Linnea though, the two of them equally blunt, but more importantly, she had a soft spot for Sable and all her oddities.

“Sorry Mrs. Hayashi,” Linnea genuinely felt guilty, _as if she could possibly do_ ** _anything_** _wrong._

“I’ve told you to call me Dasturi over a hundred times now, Linnea,” Her laugh was somewhat obnoxious, even if it was charming to an extent, “I insist.”

“Sorry Dasturi then,” Linnea laughed as she corrected herself.

And Sable was so jealous of how carefree she was over the whole situation, especially because if she personally was confronted by somebody over sixty years older than her she would go into a panic, yet Linnea wasn’t like that. The remainder of dinner was spent with the same jokes and the same flirting that Sable couldn’t stand before Gio stood up out of his seat and _insisted_ he walk his girlfriend back to her cottage, saying that it was cold outside and he didn’t want her to get sick. He draped his denim jacket over her and grabbed her hand before the two of them journeyed off.

She tried to go to sleep quickly so that she wouldn’t have to be awake when she saw Gio’s shit-eating grin as he arrived back home, feeling like he was the luckiest man alive (which he was).

If only Sable had something that would make her feel the way Gio felt around Linnea, save for the disgust she couldn’t help but be consumed with. It was a pipe dream, but Sable wouldn’t stop wishing for it every night.

**GARRICK BLUEBELL (18)**

**DISTRICT SEVEN MALE**

Garrick was often filled with an insatiable sense of spite when he walked down the hallways of his school. It wasn’t necessarily that he was a miserable person, or that he tried to be one, but still it was hard for him to smile when everybody around him had the tendency to make his blood boil. There were plenty of reasons for Garrick to be upset too. He was surrounded by kids who would harass women for existing, kids who would cheat on their tests in the most absurd ways, and worse of all there were kids who would steal the tesserae that his family needed so desperately to keep afloat.

“Nice outfit Bluebell,” His peers often made fun of the thrifted clothing, the only thing he could afford, “It looks–”

“It looks great,” Garrick corrected the boy who had approached him in the hallway that day, “Well, of course it does though. I am obviously the single most well-dressed motherfucker in all of Panem.”

“Obviously,” The boy snickered and walked away.

These were the sorts of minor inconveniences that often got on the District Seven boy’s nerves. Not violently malicious or anything, but annoying enough that they would weigh on his mind for a few hours after the fact, _as if I can help being poor. At least I’m not an ass._

He was doing the bare minimum by not being an asshole, but it was the best he could do, especially when the boy who has approached him was somebody Garrick knew for a fact had harassed his sister a few years prior.

“And then that guy Hugo Figueroa said he wants to sleep with me,” Garrick remembered the way he fumed that evening when his sister Capri told him about his day. She used to be _way_ more innocent back in the day, and actually quite cautious of boys like Hugo, but nowadays, Garrick wouldn’t be surprised if she had indeed actually slept with him on an occasion. She seemed to have a different boy every week or so it seemed. But Garrick wasn’t jealous; he had Sylvie, and had for almost three years. She was miles better than any of the boys that Capri ever brought home, out of his league even.

Still, Garrick wished he could teach Hugo, and all the other wastes of space that flooded his school a lesson. He used to be one of the strongest kids in his grade with all the wicked punches he could throw as a result of being on the wrestling team, and while he _was_ still the tallest kid by a good few inches, and he was indeed still on the wrestling team, being severely underfed greatly altered his performance, which wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his fault that his father was barely around and his mother was a nuisance, and he wished he could have more to eat than just stupid tesserae, still he couldn’t complain because at least he was eating and that was already better than the few months where he was homeless.

But of course of course, Hugo wasn’t done getting under Garrick’s skin that day. He was seen a few hours later during their lunch break pinning an younger girl against the wall and begging for her money, “I have to eat!”

He didn’t _have_ to eat the poor girl’s food though. Garrick knew damn well that Hugo’s family was quite well off and he didn’t need to rely on other people for their food, and he didn’t need to go to the town square and steal tesserae. He didn’t need to in general.

_Yet this fucker actually does…_

Garrick decided it was time for him to do what he thought he did best, sticking up for the kids who were bullied just the way he was back in the day. Nobody deserved to go through all the cruelties he was confronted with on a day to day basis (especially cruelties from his own parents), and he wouldn’t let them either.

“Get your hands off her,” He approached Hugo, and cuffed his hand around his wrist, motioning to the girl that she should try to run away, but she didn’t, because she didn’t understand what Garrick was trying to do, “You don’t need her money. Please, just go away.”

Hugo didn’t, a foolish mistake, so Garrick used his other hand to pull out on his stupidly blonde hair, “I said, get away from her.”

“So now you’re gay?” Hugo snickered, not giving a shit, “Quit pulling my hair or I’ll tell Sylvie.”

“I’m not fucking gay,” Garrick removed the hand from Hugo’s hair and pinched his cheeks, perfectly aware at the perceived homoeroticism and not minding because he knew there wasn’t a problem with being gay, “But you’ll wish I was if you don’t give her her money back.”

The girl watching all of this was absolutely dumbstruck, and Garrick couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t every day one got to watch the coolest bitch in all of Panem (or at least the coolest bitch not named Sylvie Hayes) take down an enemy. She could have easily ran away if she wanted to, but being as she didn’t, she was clearly intrigued by the altercation, that and the fact she needed her money back.

“Fucking hell,” Hugo tried to retaliate, failing miserably and missing Garrick with a punch, “I guess the little bitch can have her money back.”

He threw the currency onto the ground, which Garrick picked up and handed to the girl, “Now go get yourself something good to eat.”

“Thank you, sir,” She nearly had tears in her eyes.

“It’s my pleasure,” The District Seven boy ran his fingers through his hair as if he was a fucking movie hero, “Have a great day, little lady.”

He was quite pleased with himself and the heroic action that he had just committed, even though he felt awful for the girl. Maybe she would remember the nice thing that Garrick did for her though, and maybe that would mean that she would may him back in the future, by doing something kind for him. He truly could never have too much kindness in his life.

“And then she called me sir,” The District Seven boy enthused when he told Sylvie about his time at school later that day as they both worked their shifts at the carpentry studio, “And that made me feel real good.”

“You weren’t too angry, right Garrick?” Sylvie was always insistent that he remain calm under these pressuring situations. She was right for that too; he had a history of not doing the best job to manage his temper, and that was made obvious in incidents such as these.

“Well I pulled his hair so,” He felt guilty telling this to her, “But he was an ass to me, and he was the same guy who was an ass to Capri.”

“Just because I like it when you pull my hair doesn’t mean that everybody else does,” Sylvie giggled, standing up on her tip toes to give him a delicate kiss on the cheek, “I just don’t want you getting in trouble.”

And he didn’t want to get in trouble either, he just really couldn’t stand it whenever something wrong was happening, and he had this insatiable urge to fix it, to fix the shithole that was Panem, one asshole teenager at a time.

“I don’t want to get in trouble either,” He pulled her closer to him and kissed her on the forehead, “You just know how angry I get sometimes.”

She did, and it was something that Garrick had been working hard to fix. Maybe even working _too_ hard since he would get ridiculously self conscious whenever he got mad at somebody and then would spend the next week relishing in that anger. It was his worse vice even, the way he would hurt and inconvenience others if it meant his life would improve, not feeling bad in the moment. He also feared that he struggled with empathy, that he shouldn’t feel _that_ bad for the struggles of other people, but Sylvie always told him that he was a great man, and that he didn’t need to worry about these things. She always said that he was one of the most empathetic men that she had the “utter pleasure” of knowing.

And Garrick tried his best to believe her, which was way easier than it seemed especially when Sylvie would try to work on coping skills with him and would reassure him that he didn’t have to change a single thing about himself for her to still love him.

“I know, I know,” Sylvie reassured him once more, “I just can’t wait for you to get better at managing your anger, even though you get angry for the most valid of reasons and I know you can’t help reacting the way you do.”

“I can’t wait too.” And he meant it. Garrick needed to get better, if not for himself than for sweet Sylvie so that he could finally get down on one knee, marry her, and live out his dream life with his dream girl.

**SABLE HAYASHI (18)**

**DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE**

Of course the one thing that could make Sable Hayashi’s life more miserable than it already was just _had_ to fucking happen to her. A fancy and proper Escort called her name from the big bowl of other names that should have been pulled and just like that, Sable’s life was worse than it was before.

“I wish I could have Volunteered for you somehow,” Gio approached her in the Justice Building alongside their grandmother and Linnea, trying their best to comfort her. She knew he didn’t mean it though. He had so much to live for after all, way more than Sable had.

She didn’t want to say anything, her whole existence filled with pure and utter dread. The District Seven girl just wanted to be held by somebody, anybody, and she wanted to know that everything would be alright, even if she had no skills in anything and she knew she was dreadfully fucked.

“I’m sorry, Sable,” Linnea spoke and her grandmother repeated her.

As if they had anything they could have said or could have done that would have made this dreadful plane of existence better.

“I appreciate it,” She gave her brother a hug, so scared that it would be the last one she ever gave him. So sure that it would be.

Gio was always a good hugger too, way taller than Sable and having firm arms that were nice to be comforted in. But somehow Linnea was also a good hugger, as she learned once Gio and her grandmother left and it was just the two of them alone in the Justice Building. Sable never thought _this_ would be the situation in which she was alone with Linnea.

“Good luck Sable,” Linnea winked at her before leaving the building.

And Sable wished she said something to her, not because she thought Linnea would reciprocate her feelings but rather because it would have been nice to get it off her chest before she died.

_I guess I’ll just have to win for her…_

**GARRICK BLUEBELL (18)**

**DISTRICT SEVEN MALE**

Nothing could have properly prepared Garrick for what happened to him on the morning of the Reaping for the 51st Annual Hunger Games. He thought he would be safe, it was his last year and what were the odds he would be chosen. He could have calculated them but he didn’t know how and it wouldn’t relieve him anyways. It would just remind him how horrible life had treated him _yet again._

It was chillingly quiet when Garrick said goodbye to his family in the Justice Building. He had gotten in a fight with his father Eugene the previous night, and even if he was the favorite child, he couldn’t help but feel horrible, “I’m sorry I was mean last night.”

For once, the old man had a tear in his eye as he used his hands to sigh, “I don’t want you to apologize son, I want you to come back to me.”

He had been deaf for Garrick’s whole life, teaching him Panem Sign Language at the same time as English, which in hindsight could be a useful arena skill, even if he didn’t want to think about it.

“You’re a strong man and you can do it,” As his mother spoke she signed so that Eugene could understand, “I know you’ll do well. I do.”

He didn’t believe a word they or his echoing sisters said. How could he, a dope with anger issues do well in a situation where staying calm was ridiculously important. Sure he was strong, but that meant jack shit when he was up against trained killers.

“I just know how badly I’ll miss you,” Sylvie’s goodbye was the hardest for him to swallow. He was weary of the fact he didn’t think he could do anything without her.

“I’ll miss you more than you’ll ever know,” He hugged her for what could be the last time he hugged Sylvie, much less any other person.

He wished he could say that he planned on winning her but he didn’t know anything regarding what would happen to him. And Garrick didn’t want to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the A Perfect Union finale was posted three hours ago but here we go again, my third SYOT in four months! I’m sure you noticed this one takes place a tad later, since Haymitch is well, a thing. This story will be telling the story of the 51st Hunger Games and takes place in the same universe as WTP and APU only later. There is more to be unveiled as the prologues continue, but for now I hope you enjoyed this beginning to a new journey.  
> Obviously I need Tributes though, and I am pleased to say that submissions are open until October 15th and all the information can be found on my profile. This is going to be a wild ride and I sincerely hope you all join me.  
> Best,  
> Lindsay


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